


The Phantom Confidants

by Clevinger



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Different Phantom Thieves of Hearts, Friendship, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clevinger/pseuds/Clevinger
Summary: Two years after his "last job," ex-phantom thief Sojiro Sakura is drawn back into the Metaverse by a threat to his family. But times have changed, and he can't keep fighting alone. With an ever-expanding band of confidants drawn into his struggle, he might just make a difference in Shibuya.





	1. Trouble's Always Inbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I've needed an excuse to write something different for a while now, so here's a drastic change of pace for me: an adaption of an AU from a Tumblr post!
> 
> [This story is based off of this fantastic Persona 5 AU.](http://shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl.tumblr.com/post/164634959679/phantom-confidants-au) Thanks again to the author for giving me the go-ahead to adapt it!
> 
> The plot structure and ideas are strongly derived from the post, but this won't be a beat-for-beat adaption of the AU. Some ideas on there will get minor tweaks or complete overhauls, but I would like to keep specifics close to my chest. The story would be no fun if it was laid out immediately, would it not?
> 
> I'm not too experienced with AO3, so let me know if I foul up the formatting or any other pieces.

Even in the most ideal of scenarios, a heist has little room for error. Every minute of the operation should be planned out meticulously, no matter where one’s target is or how thorough its defenses are. Every slip-up has the potential to sink a successful robbery. The best strategy is one that any would-be thief can follow: stay out of sight and avoid making noise as you infiltrate a location.

In a move that wouldn’t have phased his former partner, Sojiro Sakura had defied all of these expectations and gotten himself captured immediately.

Dragged along by a pair of shadowy figures, Sojiro seemingly had no chance of breaking loose. His captors kept a tight grip on his chained hands and feet, giving him little range of movement. Aside from craning his neck and flexing his fingers, he could do nothing but listen to his captors ramble on.

“…Like I said, I don’t know what the pharaoh has planned, and I could care less. All she said was to watch the temple doors for intruders.”

Sojiro watched as they passed under a massive set of stone arches. This pyramid was enormous, easily dwarfing any previous palace he had plundered. So much detail was crammed into the stonework and hieroglyphs. It was easy to forget that the entire place was just a part of his daughter’s cognition, a representation of her despondent mental state.

“Alright, so why drag him in further?” the other shadow barked. “Why not dump him in the middle of the desert and come back?”

Sojiro fumbled with the lockpick between his fingers, easing it into the lock that held his chains together. He tried to block out the argument above him and focus on the tumblers moving.

Closer…just a couple more presses…

“Quit second-guessing me and help carry this thief! I shouldn’t have to pull your weight here!”

“Why are we carrying him, anyway? Are we even supposed to take prisoners?”

“‘Are we supposed to take prisoners?’ Don’t make me laugh!” The two stopped in their tracks. “Wait, are we not?”

Exchanging a look of surprise, they turned their jackal-like heads to Sojiro, who gave the lockpick a final twist. The lock came loose, dropping him onto the floor and out of their grasp.

Wasting no time, Sojiro retrieved a silenced handgun from his hip holster and blasted off the locked chains on his legs. With the grace of a trained acrobat, he leapt over the snarling shadows and landed on their heads. The pair let out a gasp as his hands found their masks. Diving back, he tore them loose and dropped onto the ground. The shadows convulsed and melted to the floor, reforming into a winged lion and an Anubis-like figure.

Holstering his pistol, Sojiro turned to face the creatures.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” he proclaimed. “You can call me Solo. I’ll be tonight’s entertainment.”

Reaching for his golden tragedy mask, Sojiro pulled it off with a fluid, flamboyant flourish. His past incursions into the cognitive world had dulled the pain of that maneuver. He could still remember his first time doing it. The pain he had experienced was almost blinding.

He heard a low, ominous chuckle behind him, signaling the arrival of his backup. Two clawed, veiny hands tore through the ground, flexing as they supported the creature entering the fray. A set of glowing yellow eyes met his as it fully emerged – a towering demonic figure clad in an ornately-decorated Tsarist military uniform. Brushing off its epaulettes with a long talon, it cocked its burning head at Sojiro.

 _One last job, old friend?_ it boomed.

“One last job,” Sojiro echoed. “Be on your toes, Pechorin. We’re going this alone.”

His persona raised its arm toward the Anubis, consuming it in a powerful blast of fire. Sojiro ducked as the Anzu charged at him, narrowly avoiding its gaping maw as it passed.

“Agilao!” Sojiro cried.

The Anzu was struck by another burst of fire from his persona. Thrown off by the attack, it wildly dove again at him, missing by several body lengths. Sojiro retrieved his pistol and fired at it, landing a critical hit. The shadow collapsed in a defenseless heap.

“Don’t shoot, I surrender!” it shrieked. “I’ll give you whatever you want! Money, loot, you name it!”

Pechorin vanished with the return of Sojiro’s mask. “Your pharaoh, where is she now?”

“But, but…she’ll kill me if I tell you!”

Sojiro thumbed the hammer of his pistol. “And I won’t?”

“Gah, of all the luck!” Giving one last frantic look around the hall – and finding that no one was going to step in – the shadow leaned in closer. “She’s sealed herself off in the treasure room. She said she would pass on with her mother tonight. Don’t tell anyone I let it slip!”

Panic descended over Sojiro. “Pass on with her mother?” She was hurting even worse than he had imagined. He didn’t know what would happen if a person’s shadow was destroyed, but none of Wakaba’s theories painted a pleasant picture. If he didn’t stop this soon…

Sojiro abandoned the wounded shadow and bolted further into the pyramid. Time clearly wasn’t on his side, but then again, not much was. Everything he was doing that night was a massive risk from the get-go. He had no support, no navigator, and barely any decent equipment. If Wakaba was still around…he hated thinking of her as a thing of the past, but _if_ she could still talk to him, she would have chewed him out for being so careless.

Even so, she would have known that it was all a labor of love.

That’s what drove him back into the cognitive world. Not the allure of its riches or the thrill of its dangers, but a desire to protect his loved ones. He had already failed one woman he dearly cared for, and he would be damned if he sat by while another suffered. She saw herself as a pharaoh guarding an empty tomb, ready to bid the world farewell at a moment’s notice. If he managed to steal her treasure, the source of her distorted desires, then he could undo all the damage she had suffered since the accident.

Sojiro’s heels dug into the ground as he stopped short of his next obstacle. Standing before him was the path to the treasure room – well, _standing_ was too strong of a word. A series of thick tiles hovered over an abyss, forming a disjointed set of stairs to his goal. The gaps between them were impressive, leaving little room for error if anyone dared climb up.

In reality, Sojiro would have fallen after the third tile, and his back would have started acting up by the second jump. Fortunately, those rules didn’t apply to the cognitive world.

Taking a few steps back, Sojiro leapt onto the first tile, landing smoothly as eyed the rest of the way up. Two shadows were idly patrolling the two biggest steps near the top, but the path was otherwise clear of threats. Confident that he wasn’t in direct danger, he somersaulted onto the second step, flipped onto the third…

 _Priorities, old friend_ , Pechorin called out from within his head.

“Can’t you let an old man enjoy himself for once?” Sojiro scoffed.

He knew his persona was right, though. As entertaining as his gravity-defying feats were, he was in the cognitive world for one reason only. After this heist, he was casting aside that part of him for good. He needed to get used to ignoring this side of him, the one that pranced around in a bright tweed suit, surgical gloves, and a ridiculous mask.

He could almost hear his persona pout. _No need to drag the mask into this_.

Halfway up, Sojiro dove onto a tile occupied by a patrolling shadow. Dropping to the ground as it swiped at him, he rolled around it and jumped, wildly grabbing at the next part of the path. His hands clutched the edge for dear life as he began pulling himself up – and noticed the silhouette of the shadow above him.

“There will be no mercy for thieves in this temple!”

Sojiro winced as one of his hands was stamped on. He felt his grip on the edge slacken as the shadow cracked down on his poor, misunderstood fingers. If he didn’t so something soon, he would go plunging down into the void.

Propping the edge of his mask against the tile, Sojiro jerked his head downward. He pushed against it until it finally came loose, dropping down until his feet snatched it from the air.

“Cut!”

A grisly slice was carved through his opponent. Split roughly along its torso, it let out a weak gasp before bursting into a dark cloud.

Finally free of that hindrance, he pulled himself up carefully. With only a few steps to go, he stopped to flex his fingers. Too close, far too close for comfort. He was still taking too many chances. There was too much on the line for him to be showboating around. He would have to play the rest of the heist safe.

Easily traversing the last few steps, Sojiro stopped at the locked door to the treasure room. He ignored the obvious concerns at hand, such as “this lock is too simple to be guarding anywhere important,” and “how do you put a modern lock on an ancient stone door?” All that mattered was getting the job done.

The lock gave way after a couple attempts with the pick. Loading a fresh magazine into his pistol, Sojiro silently shut the door behind him and walked into the pyramid’s treasure room.

He had expected troves of riches covering every corner of the place. Instead, the treasure room was downright barren. There were no decorations of any sort, barring a stand holding up a simple wooden box in its center. Like the lower portions of the pyramid, sections of glowing hieroglyphs illuminated the room, casting a green light throughout it. A thick fog seemed to hover over everything.

A glint appeared in the distance. Sojiro could barely make out a set of glasses amid the haze.

“Oh, an intruder?” it said in a young woman’s voice. “Have you come to watch me die?”

Emerging from the shadows was a bespectacled teenage girl. She was dressed like an Ancient Egyptian priestess, clashing heavily with her dyed orange hair. Her eyes were an unearthly yellow, appearing innocent yet unnerving with every blink. Her hands gripped a ceremonial dagger.

“ _Futaba_ ,” was all Sojiro could force out.

His daughter’s shadow blinked again. “You never answered my question. Did you come all this way to watch me die? I’ve hurt enough people just by living. Mom’s will was right, everyone would be better off without me…”

He had heard all about that damned will. Seemingly written by Wakaba herself, the document placed all of the blame for her death on Futaba. Her relatives pounced on the opportunity to decry their introverted niece, never acting skeptical about the will’s dubious origin. He could only imagine how terrifying it was for Futaba to believe her mother hated her. Wakaba had been a lot of things – driven, difficult to satisfy, stubborn – but she never stopped loving her daughter.

Could that will be the source of her distorted heart?

 “I am the legendary phantom thief, Solo!” Sojiro declared. “And I am here to steal the source of your distorted desires!”

Shadow Futaba pursed her lips. “Unimpressed. You aren’t worth the struggle.”

Her knife shone green as she raised it above her head. Sojiro’s worst fears were being realized. He had to do something! She was going to throw her life away over a lie!

A muffled gunshot rang out. The knife clattered against the stone floor, dented in its blade from his bullet. Shadow Futaba whirled around at Sojiro, dark energy surging around her as her rage flared.

“ _Why do you adults always have to interfere?_ ” she cried. “Why can’t you leave me alone? I’m tired of making people suffer!”

The foundations of the palace began shaking. It was as if the entire pyramid was restructuring itself from the inside…

“Futaba, you know that isn’t true! Everything they told you was a lie!”

“Shut up! I’m just a monster, a burden! _I want it all to end!_ ”

Shadows materialized all around the treasure room. Sojiro clenched up at the sight of so many enemies. He had been outnumbered before, but never against this many shadows at once…

At once, they pounced forth and converged on Sojiro. Pechorin’s worry only amplified his, but he forced himself to ignore it. If he was to survive this, he needed to be on the top of his game. Futaba’s wellbeing hinged on it.

Ripping his mask free, he shouted, “I am thou!”

A ring of fire surrounded him, knocking back the charging shadows and giving him time to draw his pistol. Bolts of lightning and gales of wind tore through the treasure room. Sojiro had to throw himself around for dear life just to avoid the deluge of attacks. Everything was trying to claw him apart or fry him. All the while, Shadow Futaba watched from the distance, her large-framed glasses standing out in the chaos. It must have seemed like a spectator sport to her.

Another burst of Agilao melted away a Thoth above him. Sojiro directed Pechorin at a Legion hovering near them, trying to coordinate their attacks as efficiently as he could. He jammed on the trigger of his pistol until another Anzu was reduced to smoke. Pechorin’s flames struck the Legion, consuming it entirely…

…Yet, a few moments later, it emerged virtually untouched.

_Resistant to fire, be on your guard._

Sojiro fired a trio of bullets at the shadow, only for it to effortlessly shrug off the attack. It was strong against fire _and_ gun attacks? He swore he saw its many faces smirk at his misfortune.

His thoughts were cut short by a bolt of electricity striking him. Flipping back to avoid the next strike, he saw the Mot readying another attack. He concentrated a blast of Agilao on it until the living coffin dissipated.

His breath was growing shorter by the minute. How much were these attacks taking out of him? Without any support, it was tough to keep track of his limits.

The field had been mostly cleared of shadows, though he was definitely worse for the wear because of it. Not every attack could be avoided, and the constant stream of magical strikes was wearing down his stamina.

Legion, the sole survivor of the raiding party, began concentrating for another attack. Staring down the monstrous creature, Sojiro readied his own before it could strike. Pechorin swung its claws at it, cleaving a giant slice straight down it.

It kept coming. Sojiro’s heart sank. The shadow ignored the attack as easily as it had for the others.

Legion roared, unleashing a devastating physical attack on Sojiro. Blow after blow crashed into him, battering him around like a rag doll. Bones crunched under its relentless beating, only stopping when Sojiro fell to his knees.

Wiping away blood from his mouth, he considered his options. He was too weak to run, and fleeing now would doom Futaba. All of his attacks were being resisted. If he had help, then maybe he could get find a weakness to exploit. He had gone it alone, though, and now he had to deal with the problem himself.

Sojiro steadied himself up against the wall. His only option was to handle it like Wakaba would: with a single-minded determination that put the safety of others before his own.

“No matter I do,” he told his persona, “follow my lead. Do not hold back.”

 _Whatever you say, old friend,_ it said back.

Sojiro braced himself for what would come next. “Giant slice!”

Another blow slashed through Legion, yet it began charging another attack. Sojiro clutched his stomach. His moves were taxing him heavily after that beatdown, but he needed to keep going.

Again and again, he called out for Pechorin to slice the shadow. Each attack heightened the pain further for Sojiro, but he could tell it wasn’t a fruitless approach. No matter how resistant it was, Legion looked weaker with every attack. It roared again, signaling that it would soon crush Sojiro with its raw power.

Barely able to stand, Sojiro cried for his persona to finish the job. One last slash finally did the trick, cutting Legion into shrouds of black mist that faded away. Panting heavily, Sojiro let out a soft chuckle.

“Not a scratch on me,” he wheezed.

His legs buckled under him. Lacking the strength to stand, he could only moan as his injuries kicked in. No part of him went unscathed from the fight. There was little he could do about it, since Pechorin lacked any healing abilities. None of those experimental medicines Wakaba had purchased were left, either. All he could do was lay there in anguish.

Maybe Wakaba and the others were right. Maybe he had gotten too old for this…

“…Why? Why did you risk your life like that?”

Shadow Futaba stood over him, clutching her chest tightly. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears.

“I don’t understand why you did that,” she whimpered. “I don’t deserve any kindness. I heard what my mom thought of me…why should a stranger like you throw your life away for my sake?”

Sojiro forced himself back onto his aching knees, desperately trying not to cry out as he faced his daughter’s shadow. Even with blood leaking from his lower lip, he found the strength to comfort her.

“Like I told you, none of that is true. You are not a monster. You are a girl who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you.”

“Why do you believe that?”

The yellow eyes of Shadow Futaba were piercing his soul. “You already know why.”

Her hands hovered over his mask. Sojiro didn’t struggle as her fingers curled around it. She gave a quick tug, then another, till it finally came off.

He could have heard a pin drop when she saw his face.

Entranced by the sight, she struggled to find her voice. “… _Sojiro?_ ” she finally asked.

“Remember what I said when I took you in? You are not alone, and you certainly aren’t unloved.”

Tears pouring from her eyes, she dropped the mask and wrapped her arms around him, shaking with every sob as she held him tight. His body might have been screaming from the pain, and his vision had gotten blurrier, but he could have cared less. Being there for her was all that mattered.

When Shadow Futaba released him, she nervously handed back his mask. “Mom…she always said we could trust you. The night before she died, she said that, if anything were to happen to her, I should go to you for help.” She paused to collect herself. “She was right all along.”

Opening her palm, she bathed Sojiro in a dim green light. He felt his limbs loosen up and the pain dull somewhat. It was just enough to get him back on his feet without difficulty.

“I’ve called off the guards and made a clear path to the exfiltration route for you,” Shadow Futaba said. “Please, for the real Futaba’s sake…take my treasure. Steal it away and destroy it so she never has to think her mom hated her.”

Walking felt like he had two left feet, but Sojiro managed to get to the stand containing the treasure. He undid the latches and cracked it open. The will was absent. Instead, the treasure had taken on another form – a plastic card with a serial number running along its middle.

There was no time to dwell on it. As soon as he had lifted it, the palace violently shuddered. It shook and shook, growing closer to complete collapse.

Glancing one last time at Shadow Futaba, Sojiro hastily said, “Thank you.”

She fervently shook her head. “I should be thanking you, but I know Futaba will do so soon enough.”

Carrying himself on wounded legs, Sojiro dodged past the falling pillars and failing supports of the pyramid. Escaping was his only priority for now. Once he got out, he could end this matter for good. He could set things right and put this Metaverse business to bed.

For Futaba’s sake, he would succeed.

* * *

Sojiro abruptly jolted awake. Groaning, he slammed his hand on the blaring alarm and dragged himself into the bathroom. Leblanc would open in an hour, and he needed to be ready for the morning rush.

Reaching into the medicine cabinet, he retrieved his glasses and lightly brushed their lenses. A dull, flat object dropped out of it and onto the sink. Running his fingers along its inscription, he immediately knew what it was: Wakaba’s metro card, last used on the day of her demise. It may not have survived the accident, but it lived on within the cognitive world.

That day marked Futaba’s downward spiral. He remembered her confession a few days after her heart was taken, how she directly blamed herself for everything. If she hadn’t insisted on taking the train…if they had walked or taken a cab instead…it was absurd, but she truly believed she was at fault for her mother’s death.

He knew that was far from the truth. Wakaba would have died on that day no matter how she traveled. She was doomed as early as their last drink together.

He tore the card in two, grunting in frustration as he continued ripping it into smaller and smaller pieces. He couldn’t save Wakaba, but he could still be a father to Futaba.

He idly gazed at his phone. The red Metaverse app hung around his menu screen like a wart, dredging up all of the ugly memories he now associated with it.

“Never again,” he muttered, closing it and washing the metro card’s scraps down the sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sojiro's persona is based on Grigory Pechorin, the central character of Mikhail Lermontov's novel "A Hero of Our Time." He could best be described as a brash and cunning casanova who stays one step ahead of his foes...sort of like how Sojiro was implied to be before he met Wakaba.


	2. Hip To Be Square

According to online reviews, Café Leblanc was a “simple but respectable” coffee shop in the alleys of Shibuya. Posters frequently praised the quality of its blends and fast service, but found few positives in its remote location or squat layout. All in all, it was regarded as a quaint hole-in-the-wall restaurant nestled in the city’s nooks and crannies.

Leblanc might just be a hole-in-the-wall, Sojiro thought, but it was _his_ hole-in-the-wall. He never felt anything but pride when he opened up shop in the morning. Despite knowing little about the restaurant business at first, he had managed to build up and market a café of his own. The years of experience brewing coffee for himself and his friends had paid off.

Sojiro had never imagined he would go on to own a restaurant. Then again, he also never imagined he would quit a cushy government job or take in a daughter. Life rarely went the way he expected it to.

Today was shaping up to be a golden example of that notion. He was expecting company to arrive within the hour, but he didn’t have a clue _what_ that company would be like. Earlier that year, he had offered to host a high school student while he was on probation, and the boy was set to walk through the door any time now. He knew the kid’s parents and had gotten some details from them, but was otherwise in the dark. All he had was a name and an age: Akira Kurusu, 16 years old.

For all he knew, the kid could be a model student who made one poor decision. He could also be a delinquent who broke rules for the sake of breaking them. Either way, Sojiro planned on putting his foot down once he introduced himself. He had to demonstrate that his patience was not to be tested.

Setting aside his crossword puzzle, Sojiro glanced at his only customers for the afternoon. Aside from the elderly couple across from him, Leblanc had gotten little other business for the day. Even then, their contributions were pretty negligible. He knew older people liked to take their time when they ate, but…geez. Four hours here, and all they had ordered were two cups of coffee. They were content to gossip about current events and sip their mugs at a slow pace. Their drinks had to be cold by now…

“Can I get you both anything else? More coffee, curry, or another drink?”

The grey-haired man smiled fondly at him. “Thank you, but this is plenty for both of us.”

Of course. “Well, if you change your minds, just say the word.”

Ignoring the tabloid news channel blaring over Leblanc’s sole TV, Sojiro resumed his crossword puzzle. There wasn’t much he could do short of closing up shop, and he didn’t plan on that until the boy arrived. Business was slow for now, but knowing his luck, a crowd would arrive just as he finished cleaning the tables.

Eventually, his mind began to wander while filling in the boxes.

Should he try to “spice up” Café Leblanc? Those he talked to cared little about its décor, but they were regulars who most likely didn’t want to offend him. He wasn’t sure what would draw in a younger crowd. He had already installed a Wi-Fi hotspot at Futaba’s insistence, but he doubted it was as big of a draw as she had hoped.

Maybe a fresh coat of paint would do the trick. From the walls and floors to the booths, much of Leblanc was a shade of brown. Even he would admit that it wasn’t the easiest on the eyes…

The front door bell gave a gentle ring. At any other time, he would greet his new customer, but he almost had this puzzle wrapped up. The final answer was on the tip of his tongue.

“Hm…vertical is…the name of a shellfish used for farming pearls…”

Sojiro caught a glimpse of the new arrival’s sneakers and plaid pants. Raising his head, he saw that a high schooler was waiting by his door. A set of crooked glasses laid atop his nose, placed as if the boy was inexperienced with them. His dark hair was messy and unkempt. An overstuffed suitcase hung over his shoulder.

Sojiro set his crossword on the counter. “There you are. I almost thought I had gotten the day wrong.”

“We’ll be going now,” said the elderly couple. “The payment’s on the table.”

Before he could thank them, the aged man spoke up again. “It’s always a pleasure to come here. Not to mention, it’s in a back alley, so there’s no worries of a car crashing through here.”

Sojiro had gotten plenty of strange compliments before, but this might’ve been the most bizarre one yet. “A what, now?”

“There’s been a string of those rampage accidents, you know. I just hope that none happen around here.”

That’s right, the news channels had been going on about those incidents lately. With no warning, people would fly into fits of anger or dangerous behavior. The results were usually mundane, like a humiliating photo going public. Every so often, though, there were reports of lives getting endangered from the psychotic breakdowns. He had even heard rumors that a few poor souls had passed away from the incidents.

It almost sounded like a problem within the Metaverse. If he warped in and took a look around…

…No. Absolutely not. He was never going back to that nightmare.

“It’s none of my concern,” Sojiro dismissively said.

“Fair enough. We’ll see you next time…”

The kid’s foot started tapping against the floor. He didn’t strike Sojiro as the impatient type, but he seemed ready for the old couple to clear out. Maybe he was just anxious to see where he would be staying.

As soon as the two were through the door, Sojiro flipped the sign to “closed.” It was time to lay down the law of the land.

“So, you’re the one I’ll be looking after. Akira Kurusu, right? Let’s get one thing straight: I won’t tolerate any crap in my café. I don’t know how your folks raised you, but I expect you to follow every rule here to the T. If you cause any problems in my business, you’re getting shipped back where you came from. You’ve got one job for the next year: live an honest student life. Think you can do that?”

His rant concluded, Sojiro felt a faint shimmer of pride. He had been practicing that tirade for the past couple hours. Acting like a drill sergeant wasn’t easy for him, especially when talking to a teenager. However, it would be worth the trouble if it kept the kid on the straight and narrow.

Flustered, the boy stammered out, “My name is Ren Amamiya.”

All of Sojiro’s momentum was killed in an instant. Had he gotten his name wrong? He could have sworn it said Akira on the papers! But pulling out his notes only confirmed the boy’s comment – he was to take in a student named Ren Amamiya during his probation period.

Here he was, trying to stop the boy from screwing things up, when he had screwed up their first impressions of each other. He had to salvage this somehow.

“…Of course I knew that! I was…I was just testing you. Seeing how you would react if I didn’t know your name.”

Ren hardly look convinced, but didn’t question his logic. “You’re Sojiro Sakura, then?”

“Just call me ‘boss.’ Most of my regulars do it.”

“Okay…boss.” He drew out the word as if he were chewing on it. “Where am I staying?”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Follow me.”

Climbing the back stairs of Leblanc, Sojiro flicked a switch to light up the top floor. He had been using the space as a storage room, but it had been collecting dust for the past few months. It mostly held old furniture: a workbench, some shelves, and a couple rusty stools. He wouldn’t lose much by letting Ren have it for the year.

“Your futon is in the corner. Don’t worry, those sheets are fresh. Can’t say the same for anything else up here.”

Ren dropped his suitcase on the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust on impact. “I like it. It’s quaint. Very post-apocalyptic.”

That last remark sounded like a jibe, but Sojiro wasn’t familiar enough with slang to question it. “Don’t expect me to tidy this place up for you, either! If you want to make any changes, you’ll have to do them yourself. This probation period is all about self-improvement. You’ll have to learn to take responsibility for yourself.”

“So everyone’s been telling me…” Ren muttered.

He might as well get the facts straight about the probation. No need to embarrass himself or Ren any further by getting something else wrong.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you? You saw a woman getting assaulted and intervened. The man you shoved aside got injured and filed suit against you. Instead of spending time in juvie, you got a one-year probation period. If you stay out of trouble, you can go back to your regular life back home.”

Ren lowered his eyes. “That’s about right.”

“See, that’s why you don’t interfere with the business of adults! You can’t throw yourself into harm’s way without considering the consequences!”

Sojiro had seen enough lives get ruined during his time in the government. Most of his colleagues were level-headed bureaucrats, but a select few reveled in abusing their power. Going against them cost people their jobs and reputations. It took years of his youthful idealism being whittled away for the lesson to sink in: sometimes, you just had to give up and run away.

“I had to do the right thing!” Ren insisted.

“And I’m not saying you didn’t! Just…look, there’s nothing wrong with sticking to your principles, but there’s a time and place for everything. Some people…they’re untouchable, okay? Trying to oppose them will bring you nothing but misery. If you keep acting the way you did, you’ll come across one of them sooner or later. It sounds awful, but you need to stick your head in the sand sometimes.”

Ren shifted uncomfortably in his jacket. Those weren’t the words he wanted to hear, but he definitely _needed_ to hear them. If he was going to last a month – let alone a year – on probation, then his attitude would need a serious adjustment.

“Look on the bright side,” Sojiro joked, “at least your folks are getting a break from your antics! I’m sure they won’t even know you’re gone.”

A faint twitch ran across Ren’s face. Struggling to mask the hint of discomfort, he let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Not the reaction he had expected or hoped for. Sojiro made a mental note to avoid bringing up the kid’s parents in front of him.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you be. You still need to unpack and get comfortable around here. If anything comes up…”

The door to Leblanc swung open. Boots stamped around the bar and up the stairs, clapping down in sync with the bell’s frantic ringing.

“Sojiro, there’s no time to explain! A flash sale went live and I need your credit card ASAP! Deals on this kind of hardware don’t happen every day!”

The orange-haired girl by the steps clasped her hands together, giving him the saddest doe-eyed stare she could. He wasn’t the type to spoil people, but it was hard to refuse her when she used tactics like that.

“Alright, alright, Futaba, I’m on it. Just give me a moment.”

Sojiro fished around in his wallet for his card. Over the years, it had become bloated with business cards and rewards cards for local shops. He promised to clean it out every month, but he had made little headway on that resolution.

“Oh!” Futaba suddenly exclaimed. “Is that the noob we’re taking in, the Kurusu guy?”

“ _Amamiya_ ,” he corrected her.

She broke into a giggling fit. “I know, right? _Mamma mia_ , what a crappy name!”

Sojiro nearly dropped his wallet. “Futaba! You can’t just say…”

To his surprise, Ren snorted and laughed with her. Their snickering was downright infectious. It took much of Sojiro’s willpower to restrain himself to a slight grin.

He was glad to see Futaba act unafraid around strangers. After her change of heart, it took some effort to ease her back into the outside world, but it all proved fruitful in the end. Had he not intervened when he did, she would have fallen deeper into despair and self-loathing. He didn’t want to imagine what her palace would have looked like now.

“You’re an okay guy, Amamiya.” She offered her hand to the boy. “I’m Futaba.”

Returning the handshake, he said, “Call me Ren.”

Having sifted through most of his wallet, Sojiro finally retrieved his credit card from a back pocket. Futaba immediately snatched it up and dashed down the stairs, offering a rushed “I’ll see you later, Ren!” as she retreated back to her computer.

Yeesh, she didn’t miss a beat. Sojiro would have to check his accounts once she was done with the card.

“Like I was saying, I’ll leave you be so you can unpack. I’ll make dinner for you in a couple hours. We’ll be finishing your registration at Shujin Academy tomorrow, so get some rest tonight.”

Ren nodded and got to work opening up his suitcase. Sojiro was halfway down the steps when he realized he had not, in fact, laid down the law completely.

“One more thing,” he growled, “if I catch you trying anything with my daughter…”

The look of fear in Ren’s eyes got across all that needed to be said.

* * *

“…I would imagine that Sakura-san has already made your situation clear, but to reiterate: there will be no second chances for you. Causing problems for our students and faculty will result in your immediate expulsion from Shujin Academy. Do you understand?”

Ren silently nodded as Principal Kobayakawa went over more of the school’s stringent regulations. Sojiro had accompanied him into the principal’s office for the meeting, but it hardly seemed necessary. Other than classes and uniform policies, Kobayakawa had retreaded over the same rhetoric Sojiro had gone over: fall in line or fall out.

Kobayakawa shifted all of Ren’s paperwork together. “…Besides, this could prove beneficial for all parties involved. You can return home with a clean record, and Shujin can take pride in reforming a wayward student. That would certainly be one for the papers, wouldn’t it, Sadayo?”

The bushy-haired woman beside him sighed. Her eyelids were half-drooping, like she was in an active struggle to keep focused. “I suppose it would, sir.”

Shujin Academy cared an awful lot about its reputation; more specifically, it cared about showing off its reputation. The entrance to the school was flanked with glass cases, each one packed with various academic and athletic awards. Photos of its star-studded alumni lined the halls of the faculty offices. Even Kobayakawa’s office was no exception: dozens of news articles about his accomplishments were framed in a cabinet beside his desk.

A sizeable chunk of the press pieces focused on Suguru Kamoshida, the volleyball coach of Shujin. With his status as a former Olympic athlete, Kamoshida’s recruitment at the school made headlines for weeks on end.

“You have been assigned to Kawakami-san’s homeroom. I would suggest catching up on any work you may have missed during your transfer here.”

“Why does he have to be assigned to my homeroom?” she groaned. “Can’t anyone else take him in?”

“That’s out of the question! Your students have had some of the highest test scores in Shujin. If anyone is qualified to get him back on track, it’s you!”

Downcast as ever, Kawakami averted her eyes as she plucked a laminated card from the desk. She hesitantly held it out toward Ren. Sojiro couldn’t begin to guess what she was feeling. For all of her apathy about her job, she didn’t look too eager to disappoint any of the parties involved. Could she be afraid of Ren? It wasn’t an unbelievable idea. He doubted that many of her past students went to court or had criminal records.

“Here, this is your student ID. There’s a replacement fee, so don’t lose track of it.”

Slipping it into his hand, Ren twirled the card between his fingers. Only a glare from Sojiro got him to cut the act and pocket his ID.

“If you need any tutoring, I’ll see what I can do to help.” She nervously tugged on the sleeves of her orange-and-yellow striped shirt. “Please don’t cause problems in my class. I won’t be able to help you if you’re considered for expulsion.”

Kobayakawa raised his portly body from his chair. “He won’t be a problem for any member of our faculty. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I just have to keep my head down and study.” Ren offered an uncertain shrug to the principal. Half smiling, he said, “How hard could it be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually don't mind Ren Amamiya being made Joker's canon name. It suits his character well. I just wish Atlus had decided on a name before making the manga or any other spin-offs. It's going to get complicated searching through fan art and fanfiction with this change.
> 
> Next chapter should begin introducing POVs outside of Sojiro's. I'm looking forward to starting up Mishima and Kawakami's arcs.


	3. Blue Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of profanity greatly increases in this chapter. Kamoshida also makes his first appearance here. Coincidence? You decide.

Yuuki Mishima was not having a good day.

Volleyball practice was typically a brutal slog, racing from one excruciating drill to another without a moment to catch one’s breath. Things only got worse near the end, when the team would be split in two and set against each other in a match. The winning side got off easy – though “easy” just meant “slightly better than the other guys” these days – while the losers suffered through even harder workouts. It took serious endurance and willpower not to collapse before it ended. Today, though…it was possibly the worst practice of the year.

Barely a few inches from his face, Kamoshida shouted, “Come on, Mishima! Do some _real_ push-ups! I want to see your nose touch the ground!”

His arms shook, his chest ached. He felt lightheaded. As much as he tried to make the process automatic, up then down, up then down, he could no longer push past the pain. His breaths came out ragged as he willed himself to finish the set.

“Oh, don’t bother exerting yourself! It would break my goddamn heart to see you sweat!”

His whole body was soaked as it was! Every stitch of clothing clung to him. His eyebrows were hurriedly batting away droplets of sweat while they poured down his face.

“You are a washout! If you can’t go the same distance as your teammates, then you don’t deserve to be on my court!”

Why was it always him? He knew the others were suffering as badly as he was! Kamoshida could have made examples out of anyone else, but he wouldn’t. He was just too easy of a target for humiliation; no matter where he went, he could never escape from that fact. All he could do was delay the torment.

Squeezing out the last few repetitions, Yuuki allowed himself to drop to the smooth floor of the volleyball court. He sucked in a deep breath, giving his lungs the air they needed. If no one interrupted him, he would be tempted to lay there for the rest of the day.

A sharp kick drove into his side. He howled in pain and rolled onto his back, wincing as Kamoshida approached him.

“What the hell are you trying to pull, Mishima? We’re moving right on to planks! I never said anything about taking a breather!”

Yuuki whirled around, grasping desperately for some excuse, but saw that the others were, in fact, still upright in planking position. His stomach dropped. When had the instructions changed? He had helped write the set on the board that morning, so he should have it known better than anyone else!

Blowing his whistle, Kamoshida signaled for the team to get up. “Change of plans, everyone! Mishima here believes that he knows how to run my workouts better than I do! As much as I appreciate his input, I got a better idea: run four laps around the track _right goddamn now_ , or you all have to start this from the top!”

A collective groan rose around Yuuki. Instinctively, he shrunk back at the sound. The blame had been placed squarely on his shoulders. He hated to imagine what lay in store for him once practice ended…

“Remember to thank Mishima for this exciting change of plans! _Now let’s get a move on!_ ”

The familiar clack of sneakers on the court signaled the start of another hellish run. Yuuki did his best to ignore the death glares from his teammates and join in. Nearly through the gym’s side doors, Kamoshida held out his arm to block him. “No, you’re coming to my office. You and I need a little one-on-one together.”

As if the day wasn’t going well enough already…

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled.

Fearing whatever reprisal would come next, he held his head low as he stepped into Kamoshida’s office. Like the rest of Shujin, the space served only to bloat the volleyball coach’s massive ego further. A photo of himself at the Olympic podium stood on his desk, taking priority over all other sights with its garish gold frame. Behind him was a bulletin board crammed with newspaper clippings about his achievements, from his days as a college volleyball star to his meteoric rise as an Olympic athlete. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of just how highly Kamoshida was regarded outside the school.

Not to mention, it showed how badly any attempts to expose him would go.

He was the star of their school, the draw for many aspiring athletes and their donor-happy parents. It didn’t matter how much of a jerk or creep he was – all that mattered was the positive press he brought to Shujin Academy. Kamoshida’s lantern jaw and crowd-pleasing smile made him seem like a good guy. Even if someone stood up to him, would anyone believe them? He had the principal wrapped around his little finger, and Yuuki had a gut feeling that the other faculty were too indifferent or too scared to speak out against him.

Kamoshida reclined in his rolling chair. “Not a good look, Mishima. Interrupting sets because you’re tired? Missing practices? Doesn’t seem like you care about volleyball at all.”

He was just going to rub this in his face, wasn’t he? Volleyball was one of the reasons he attended Shujin! It was his one passion outside of coding…well, it _was_ , before he joined Kamoshida’s team. Now it was a waking nightmare.

“I’m gonna be frank with you: I’ve been thinking about cutting a couple members of the volleyball team. I don’t need this much dead weight before our first game of the season.”

Swallowing nervously, Yuuki stammered out, “Y-you can’t mean…”

“Your odds aren’t good.” Kamoshida smirked at him. “This is what happens when you don’t respect authority! At the rate you’re going, you’ll end up just like that Sakamoto bastard!”

His hands instinctively fled to his leg. He had heard all about what happened to Ryuji – yet another low blow Kamoshida had gotten away with.

“I’ll do anything! Please, let me stay on the team! This is my one chance to make something of myself!”

Kamoshida’s grin raised a hair. “Anything, huh?”

His tone was enough to make Yuuki shiver. He had heard some of the horror stories about Kamoshida from other students, and knew that the boys on the volleyball teams weren’t the only ones being abused. The female athletes were also targeted, but while the boys were beaten and run ragged, the girls suffered a whole different type of abuse. It wouldn’t be unprecedented for Kamoshida to pressure him into giving him “favors.”

Humming lightly, Kamoshida sifted through a stubby notebook on his desk. He haphazardly ripped off a page and forced it into Yuuki’s hands. “When the team gets back to the locker rooms, tell them everything that’s written on that note. You do that, and I’ll hold off on the cuts for now.”

“That’s all?”

“Stick to the script, and I’ll give you a break. Think you can do that?”

Yuuki nodded vigorously and unfolded the paper. There was no way he was going to screw up his last chance. It didn’t matter what he was told to do, so long as he…

“…A transfer student named Ren Amamiya has a criminal record for assaulting a man. Let the volleyball team know, and tell them to pass on the word about him. He could be dangerous.”

An uneasy silence filled the room. Discomfort overtook Yuuki as his orders weighed down on him. After years of being bullied and gossiped about, he was going to take on the role of rumormonger. The ironic turn of affairs did nothing to soothe his dread; if anything, he felt even worse than he did coming into the office.

“Is there a problem?” Kamoshida sneered. He stood up and rested his palms on the desk, towering over the already-terrified Yuuki. “Are you such an ungrateful brat that you can’t do one thing I ask?”

“N-no, but…”

The side doors to the court creaked open, allowing the deluge of exhausted volleyball players to arrive. Practice had come to an end, but the laps had kept it going longer than expected.

“I’ve laid it all out clearly, so even a dumbass like you would know what to do!” He pointed at the row of players shuffling into the locker room. “You can take my offer or get dropped from the lineup. Your call.”

Volleyball or his dignity. It was a choice he dreaded making, but he had to do something to stay in the game. At least he didn’t have much dignity left to lose.

He waded into the crowd, trying to ignore the unpleasant stares and gestures he was getting from his teammates. All of that extra running cut into the time allotted for showering, so far fewer people would come out of practice ready for the day. The odor in the locker room was overwhelming, and the lines to the showers doubled back to the entrance. Some players were desperate enough to wash their faces or hair in the sinks.

Doubting that anyone would offer him their spot in line anytime soon, Yuuki went straight to his locker and started unpacking his school uniform.

Beside him, a wing spiker on his team began fumbling with his lock. “That was a real pisser, wasn’t it? Wonder what’s eating Kamoshida today?”

Now or never. Speak now, or forever hold your peace.

Yuuki swallowed his pride. “He’s worried about that new student. Have you heard about the Amamiya guy that transferred today?”

* * *

Sadayo Kawakami was not having a good day.

Working two jobs took a serious toll on her health, and she could only struggle against the ensuing fatigue for so long. As soon as she finished her duties at Shujin, she was off to her night job. By the time her work was done, she had a couple hours to herself before she collapsed in bed, and then the process began anew.

Teaching may be her passion, but this second job was her hidden shame. She didn’t want to do it, and it would bring dire consequences if it became public knowledge, but she needed the money. Not for herself, no. It was all for a couple of shysters who preyed on her guilt, exploiting her past misdeeds to squeeze every last digit from her bank account.

Today was yet another battle to stay awake and alert. She reminded herself that this was all for her students’ sakes. With a good education, they could avoid ending up like her.

“…With all of this in mind, Chikamatsu’s works are an ideal introduction to traditional Japanese literature. His plays reflect our country’s values in the 17th and 18th century, many of which are still prevalent in our culture. Last night’s readings on _The Love Suicides at Amijima_ should have illustrated that connection clearly.”

Discontented murmurs fluttered among her students. Some flipped open their homework books and began checking the week’s assignments so far. Amid this development, a blonde-haired girl hesitantly raised her hand.

“Weren’t we supposed to read _The Battles of Coxinga_ last night?” asked Ann Takamaki.

Sadayo paused at her assertion, unable to confidently say which story was correct. She retrieved her own planner and flipped to yesterday’s assignments. True to Takamaki’s word, an entirely different play by Chikamatsu had been given to the students.

Her lower lip curled, teeth pressing down in frustration. “Dammit, not again,” she moaned.

Muffled cackles arose from those present. Sadayo froze in fear, horrified at what she had just let loose. She tried so hard to act professional, but her mask had been slipping more and more lately. Working on so few hours of sleep was costing her dearly. It kept getting harder to hide her anger at her situation, at everyone who exploited her to get ahead.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Sadayo gave up on her apology, hoping to move past her embarrassment. “That is correct, you all were assigned _The Battles of Coxinga._ Part of our quiz on Friday will cover that play, so make sure to review it before then.”

The klaxon ringing of Shujin’s bells relieved her from further awkward apologies. Her students were already packed up and heading out of the class, hopefully to forget about her little slip of the tongue. She felt like she was on thin ice at the academy. A vulgarity complaint would be the last thing her record needed.

Only two students remained when the dust settled. Both got out of their desks and approached her simultaneously, stopping short once they noticed the other.

Ren Amamiya bowed to the girl beside him. “You go first.”

A brief smile appeared on her sullen features. “It might take longer for me. I can wait for you to finish.” She stepped back, allowing Ren to talk to Sadayo face-to-face.

Oh, no. Not him. Not the delinquent with the assault charge.

“I have some questions about the material. I’m not sure what you covered before I transferred over. Is there a record of the last few assignments I could copy down?”

Being alone with him was nerve-wracking. She didn’t know what would make him fly off the handle. Why couldn’t one of the other teachers have taken him in?

“Can’t you ask one of your classmates?”

“I would, but none of them would answer me. Don’t know why they were so tight-lipped…”

“I’ll email you everything you missed. If that’s all, I need to start setting up for the next period.”

She would have handed him her personal planner if it meant ending this tense conversation. Seemingly oblivious to her fear, Ren gave a quick nod and walked off to his next class.

Once he had cleared the door, the last student crept closer to her.

“I’m sorry to bother you like this,” Shiho Suzui softly said. “I know I’m not part of your class, but I didn’t know else I could turn to. You’re the only teacher I can trust.”

Sadayo wasn’t sure whether she could handle any more revelations for the day. The news about Ren had shaken her up as it was. Still, Suzui put her confidence in her, and she didn’t want to let her down in her hour of need.

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about the athletics department.” She cast her eyes downward, adding, “I know you aren’t a part of it, but no one inside it will listen. I thought…maybe you…”

She still couldn’t work up the nerve to talk. Taking her hands in hers, Sadayo spoke to her in the gentlest voice she could manage. “Suzui, I’m here for you, just like the rest of the faculty. You can open up to me.”

“…It’s about Kamoshida-san. He’s been…forceful with me. Asking me to spend time with him. Trying to get me alone for ‘lessons.’ And I know he isn’t just causing issues for me. My friend Ann said something similar, and I’ve seen how miserable the volleyball team is…” Suzui faced her, eyes wide with dread. “It’s horrible. We should be able to rely on our teachers…”

Sadayo wasn’t ignorant on the rumors swirling around Kamoshida. She had never seen him prey on any students personally, but the stories she heard were enough to make her break out in a cold sweat.

“Can you do anything about it?” Suzui pleaded with her. “Someone needs to stop him before he hurts anyone else!”

“Have you taken this up with the principal?”

“He brushed me off! He said that I shouldn’t try to sully his star coach’s ‘good reputation.’ None of the other coaches will hear me out, either!”

Her stomach was curling into a knot. What could she possibly do to help her? Kobayakawa may lead the school on paper, but Kamoshida called the shots. Even if she came forward and asked for the principal to reprimand him, it just get her fired instead of the man that deserved it.

“Did you get any evidence of his abuse? Photos, video, any recordings?”

Suzui shook her head. “He never allows phones in his office. I used to think it was some hold-over from Shujin’s early years. I guess I know why he has that rule now…”

What do you say to someone you plan on letting down? How can you prepare to look them in the eyes and shatter their hopes? She was powerless to protect her students, and it tormented her to no end.

Sadayo sighed deeply, guilt eating away at her. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

* * *

Ren Amamiya was having a pretty good day.

Sure, he had nearly missed his first class, and the students tended to clam up whenever he passed by. But there had been some positives to it! He was adapting to his classes better than he had expected, and there was not much material to make up. Most importantly, he was already befriending new people! Lost on the way to Shujin, he had gotten to know a second-year named Ryuji. The two had hit it off almost immediately, finding common ground in their unfortunate streaks of bad luck.

Shujin Academy was stringent and not very easy on the eyes, but it was a decent school. Maybe transferring here wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. He could see himself making it through the year without much conflict.

“…So you live in a coffee shop?” Ryuji exclaimed. “For real?”

“Yeah, for the next year. It’s pretty sweet so far. Sojiro – you know, the guy running it – seems okay. Strict and all, but he’s trying to look out for me.”

Coming from their lunch break, the two walked together to their next classes. Ryuji’s classes were on the way to Ren’s, so he wouldn’t risk missing anything by accompanying him.

“You gotta take me there sometime! Coffee’s not my thing, but the whole setup sounds awesome.”

“I’ll see what he thinks. I don’t know how ‘formal’ Leblanc is supposed to be.”

Stepping around a turn in the hallway, Ren came face-to-face with a trio of first-years. One look from him enough to make them recoil and turn away.

“Wonder what that’s about…” he asked himself.

“Ignore ‘em, everyone around here is hard on the new guys. You wanna make it through here, you gotta learn to deal with their bullshit.”

Ignoring problems didn’t come naturally to Ren. He was the type to throw himself head-first into trouble…although, that attitude _did_ land him in serious trouble before. Maybe Ryuji had a point.

“Anyway,” Ryuji grinned, “you said Sakura-san’s got a daughter at Shujin, right? You see her yet? Is she cute?”

Sojiro’s vague threats still hung over his head. “I…she’s not my type.”

In the silence that followed, Ren could hear the hushed whispers of huddled students along the hall. Clustered tightly together, they would hazard one glance at him before saying,

“…That’s him, right? The kid that attacked that guy…”

“…He’s hanging around that Sakamoto delinquent, why am I not surprised…”

“…He’s looking this way! Don’t draw his attention, you might provoke him!”

Every rumor felt like a slap across his face. Barely into his first week, and already people started gossiping about him? They all thought he would fly off the handle at the slightest provocation! He wasn't violent, damn it! He didn’t mean to hurt anyone!

Ryuji gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “You okay, dude? You’ve got this dark look goin’ on. Don’t tell me you’re taking their crap to heart.”

“That’s easier said than done,” he muttered.

The rest of the walk was filled with an overbearing silence, interrupted only by the snippets of gossip he heard on the way to Ryuji’s classroom. Exchanging some quick goodbyes, Ren stormed off in the direction of his next class. Shujin had already lost its charm, and he couldn’t wait for the day to end. He would have loved to have been accepted by its students, and being ignored would have still been preferable to being looked down on.

Passing by some rooms he didn’t recognize, Ren opened what looked like the door to his English class. He wasn’t prepared for what waited inside.

A tall, well-built man in a plain shirt stood over a second-year student, glaring at her lecherously while she cowered back into her seat. He had read enough online articles to recognize Suguru Kamoshida on the spot. Ren had a bad feeling about the coach from the start, but this…

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He needed to leave before they noticed him.

The door to Kamoshida’s office creaked. It would have been easy to miss in the regular hallway’s regular commotion, but it stood out in the oppressive quiet of the room. Their combined attention shifted towards Ren. Kamoshida’s eyes flared with such fury that he looked ready to strike him. The female student quivered in her chair, pleading for him to run without speaking a single word.

A mistake had been made. A massive, overwhelming beast of a mistake.

Inexplicably, Kamoshida broke into lighthearted laughter. He patted the student on the back and helped her out of her chair.

As if he hadn’t done anything wrong. As if he hadn’t cornered her before Ren stumbled in on his advances.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Kamoshida jokingly said. “I’m trying to give my friend personal advice, and now you’ve made it uncomfortable for her. Guess we’ll have to save this for another time…”

Kamoshida roughly pushed her out of his office. His calloused fingers wrapped around Ren’s arm and dragged him further in.

The door slammed shut. Ren’s heart picked up its pace as Kamoshida pressed in the lock, then turned back to him, sneering as he approached.

“Let’s get something straight, you little shit,” he coldly said. “What you just saw? It didn’t happen. Understand?”

Ren tried to remain stony-faced, even when the coach closed in on him. It was hard not to shrink back from him. He had met men like him before: vicious pricks that flaunted their power and crushed anyone they considered weak. Being alone with them was never a safe idea.

Kamoshida’s voice dripped with venom. “Are you _deaf?_ Or are you just a dumbass? I’m trying to make myself clear to you. Transfers like you always cause trouble, so I’d rather have you toe the line early.”

“That girl didn’t want to be alone with you…” he shakily said.

Kamoshida scoffed. “Every girl wants a piece of me. Some just don’t realize it right away.”

At that moment, Ren was pulled back to that fateful night in the alley. The blinding light of the street lamps. The revving of car engines in the distance. The woman’s screams as her attacker tried to force her into his car.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?” Ren cried. “You tried to _force yourself_ on her! What kind of coach does that to his students? Are you-”

Kamoshida’s fist rammed into Ren’s gut, unceremoniously dropping him to the floor. A clump of his hair was roughly grabbed and held up, leveling his eyes with Kamoshida’s. He gasped for air as the coach stared him down. If looks could kill, he would have washed up in the harbor a week from today.

“You’re pretty slow, aren’t you? I’ll make this quick, then: mind your own goddamn business. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this office unless I say so. If I catch you snooping around, I’ll have you suspended from Shujin before sundown. Is that clear?”

Even with his pride in shambles, a defiant fire burned in Ren’s heart. He wasn’t going to let this drop so easily.

“ _Crystal_ ,” he spat.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear. Now run along to your next class, and remember: you never stopped by this place.”

Releasing the locks, Kamoshida escorted him out of his office, wearing a bright smile as he waved goodbye. Ren attempted to ignore the dull pain in his stomach as he trudged along. He barely made it to English class, arriving with mere seconds to spare.

Righteous fury simmered within him, drowning out anything he could have discerned from the day’s lesson. Kamoshida was abusing his position at Shujin to bully and make advances on students. He was as rotten to the core as that drunkard who sued him. He couldn’t get away with it; no, he _wouldn’t_ get away with it. There had to be more students who knew about the coach’s misdeeds, those who had seen or experienced them firsthand. They must be keeping the truth to themselves to avoid reprisal. If they banded together, recounted what they knew at the same time, they would stand the greatest chance at exposing him.

Today, he would collect his thoughts and recover. Tomorrow, he would start asking questions.


	4. Heavy Deeds

It was around lunchtime when Ren cornered Yuuki by his locker. He braced himself for the worst, expecting harsh retribution from the supposedly-violent delinquent. He had been shoved and knocked around by milder people in the past, and he hadn’t done anything as bad as leaking their criminal records! It made sense that Ren would want to pay him back for spreading those rumors.

Before Yuuki could beg for his life, Ren made his intentions clear. He helped pick up the withdrawn boy’s fallen books, then asked if he could sit with him for lunch. Yuuki was too baffled to raise any objections.

The two arrived early to the cafeteria, beating the lunch rush and granting them free rein of the tables. Yuuki grabbed a circular one by the window and unpacked his lunch: a bento box he had prepared the night before. Ren returned with a blond boy by his side and a tray of food balanced in his hands. He wasn’t too surprised that Ren had taken a liking to Ryuji, considering their similar situations.

Ryuji drew an empty chair and sat down, dangling his injured leg from an armrest. “‘Sup, Mishima. You holding up alright?”

“I’ve been worse.”

He hoped that Ren was being honest, and that this was just a normal lunch. It wouldn’t be the first time someone he trusted pulled a fast one on him. Then again, he and Ryuji were on good terms. He doubted that the runner would tolerate someone going to town on him, but persistent bullying had a way of making you paranoid.

With his ravenous hunger in play, Ryuji tore into his sandwich. Between bites, he spoke to Ren. “You said something went down yesterday?”

“That’s right. It’s why I brought you both over here. It’s about Kamoshida.”

Yuuki suppressed a nervous gulp. Ryuji lowered his sandwich, his appetite having vanished at the mere mention of that name.

“I stumbled into his office by mistake last afternoon. He was lording over some girl, eyeing her like she was a piece of meat. When he caught wind of me, he sucker punched me and threatened to suspend me if I told anyone else.”

“That effin’ bastard!” Ryuji cried. “He hasn’t changed a bit since last year!”

“So he’s been acting like this well before I got here?”

“You don’t even know, man. First thing he did when he got hired was take down the other athletic teams. Flexed his muscle around Kobayakawa, got him to fire the other coaches or let him take over. He drove the rest into the ground, always findin’ some bullshit excuse to shut down the teams.” He ran his hands over his knee. “Bastard said some crap that got to me, then broke my leg when I took a swing at him. Then he closed the track team and blamed the guys for something I did!”

Ren said nothing throughout Ryuji’s rant, taking in the information with an inquisitive stare. Yuuki dreaded the inevitable moment when he would get questioned. He had plenty to say about Kamoshida’s cruelty, but he wouldn’t be able to avoid his own misdeeds for long.

“He’s right,” Yuuki said. “The volleyball team has been in the pits since he took over. He treats us as if we’re his slaves! And that’s not even factoring in what he does to the girls!”

After some consideration, Ren spoke up. “It sounds like he’s been doing this since he started at Shujin, and no one here has been safe from him. Why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? Why not speak up or petition for him to resign?”

“Dude, you think no one’s thought of that? Doesn’t work, trust me. Anybody who talks gets ignored or suspended, and that’s if they’re lucky!”

“We’ve had to keep our heads down and put up with it,” Yuuki added.

His arguments were a moot point, as he could tell that nothing could dissuade Ren. His eyes burned with a fire for justice, for a desire to right the wrongs in Shujin. It was almost…alluring. It was like he was some unsung hero destined to come here and end the tyranny of Kamoshida. But this wasn’t some romantic tale of usurping authority. All Ren would do is dig himself deeper if he took action.

“Someone needs to stand up to Kamoshida!” Ren declared. “If no one else will lead the charge, then I need to inspire people to stand up for themselves!”

“But you’ll get in so much trouble! Doesn’t that worry you?”

Ren shrugged. “Trouble has a way of finding me no matter what I do. Might as well face it head-on.”

“Hey, if you’re really gonna do this, then count me in.” Ryuji took a swig from his plastic water bottle. “I’ve wanted to stick it to that asshole for a long time.”

Yuuki waved his hands in front of him. “Don’t rope me into this!” he insisted. “I just want to make it through the year!”

“Rope you into what?”

Another guest stood over their table, glancing at them curiously through large-framed glasses. Yuuki recognized her as that first-year in his computer science class, Futaba.

Caught off-guard, he could only get out, “I…uh…”

“Mishima is backing out of our senior prank,” Ren smoothly cut in. “He’s getting cold feet about the idea. Thinks that covering the handrails and stairs in butter is a bad move.”

Futaba stuck her tongue out at Yuuki. “Knew you were a square all along,” she teasingly said, dropping down into the last available chair.

With her arrival, the rush to the cafeteria had officially begun. Conversations filled the air from all over the room, drowning out his thoughts. Most of the other tables were filled to the brim. Some students were carrying their lunches to the garden benches, or arriving just to sign out and go to the library. He looked out at the volleyball team sitting together and wondered, vaguely, if they had forgiven him for his last screw-up.

“Didn’t know you already met Ren, Nishima,” Futaba casually said. She absentmindedly picked through her curry, focusing more on the conversation than her lunch.

“It’s _Mishima_. I kind of met him through Ryuji. There isn’t much else to say.”

She jabbed a spoon at him. “I’m guessing you’re Ryuji, then? You’re friends with Ren?” She let out a long, melodramatic sigh. “And Sojiro had such big hopes for you! Wait till he hears you’re hanging around with delinquents!”

“Hey, what the eff are you tryin’ to say? I ain’t some delinquent!”

“Of course you are! Let’s look at the facts! You got bad posture, your uniform doesn’t meet Shujin’s standards, and to top it off, your hair is dyed!”

Yuuki and Ryuji were in equal bewilderment at her claims. Ren, suave as ever, responded with a quick, “Futaba, don’t you have dyed hair?”

“That’s different! Orange is a good, wholesome color. Only three kinds of people dye their hair yellow: ninjas, k-pop stars, and delinquents. I spotted Ryuji through the windows, so he’s no ninja, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a pop album topping the charts in Seoul.” Futaba triumphantly jumped up from her chair. “That leaves one possibility: Ryuji is a delinquent!”

“…How the hell did you come with that?” Ryuji sighed, too baffled to argue any further.

“That wasn’t a denial,” she impishly grinned.

Their back-and-forth banter went on throughout the period, with Futaba eating up all the info she could about Ren’s first days at Shujin. Ryuji formally introduced himself to Futaba, who continued to label him a rule-breaking delinquent. Though she hit it off with the other boys easily, Yuuki found himself on the outskirts of their conversation. He could only interject at infrequent moments. Even though he had plenty in common with her, he still couldn’t muster the courage to open up more.

Ten minutes before their next classes would begin, Ren and Ryuji excused themselves from the table. They gave an excuse about English lessons and preparing for a project, despite not sharing any classes. Futaba had no way of knowing this, though, so she waved goodbye to the pair and remained with Yuuki.

Now alone with her, he should have been able to strike up a conversation easily. It didn’t matter how pretty she was or how aloof she acted around him, right? They had plenty in common. He just had to bring up something she would know about.

The words never came. Ultimately, Futaba broke the silence with a simple question.

“Mishiina, can I ask you something?”

“I’m _Mishima_ ,” he insisted.

“Right, right.” She wrapped her fingers around her can of tea, not meeting his face. “If Ren was in trouble, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

If only she knew what her friend was about to do.

“Sojiro’s worried about him,” she said. “I’m worried, too. All sorts of rumors about him started spreading. He can’t be taking them well…”

The shame of his collaboration with Kamoshida cut him deeper. He had truly made a deal with the devil that day, selling out an innocent boy for a sport he had little passion for. Without meaning to, he had hurt his few friends by running his stupid mouth. If they found out, he doubted they would offer him anything close to forgiveness.

“Don’t fret about that! If anything happens to him, you can count on me to keep you in the know!”

Futaba swallowed his lie with the rest of her curry. Yuuki finished his meal in silence until the bell rang, sending them in separate directions for the rest of the school day.

* * *

By the time the final bell rang, Yuuki’s backpack was saddled with books from each of his classes. No teacher had skimped out on homework or readings for the night. Chapters from an assigned book, notes on CSS for an upcoming quiz, problems from his trigonometry textbook…the list went on and on. He would be up all night trying to tackle this workload! Maybe he could save some assignments for lunch period tomorrow.

Though classes had finished, the hallways were still populated with students. Some were lounging around with friends, while others waited around for clubs to open or afternoon practices to start. He had been interested in a few clubs in his freshman year, but nothing ever came of it. He couldn’t commit to their schedules, and more importantly, the existing members rarely wanted him there.

At least it gave him more time to focus on his grades and hobbies. He had been toying with the idea of creating an online forum, but could never narrow down its central topics.

Passing through the garden housed within Shujin’s compound, Yuuki bought a green tea from the vending machines and walked into the athletics department. His mesh bag was lying in the locker room, forgotten and unloved. He planned on zipping into the gym, grabbing it, and getting out before cheerleading practices began. Last thing he needed to do was interrupt something that important.

The offices along the path to the gym had no labels – a holdover from Kamoshida’s purge of the athletics department staff. Only he and a select few coaches continued to work at Shujin Academy. The others moved onto other schools or, if they tried to halt his plans, were fired by Kobayakawa. It was downright _eerie_ how many nameless doors you had to pass before a labeled one came up. Fittingly, Kamoshida’s was the first he typically saw.

His door was cracked open slightly, allowing the tense argument from within to spill outside. He easily recognized Ren and Ryuji’s voices, and heard Kamoshida’s low, intimidating snarls soon after. To his horror, he realized that they had followed through and confronted Kamoshida. Peeking through the opening, his other fear was confirmed: no one had been willing to help them. They were on their own against a man that Shujin’s own faculty couldn’t bring to heel.

“Enough of your bullshit!” Ryuji shouted. “Stop actin’ like everybody here owes you one! You’re just a scummy pervert who looks down on everyone else, and we all know it!”

“Tough talk coming from a thug,” Kamoshida coolly shot back. “If everyone knows it, then why didn’t anyone else come with you? All I see are a couple of punks with grudges.”

Ren stepped between them. “You’re making it impossible for people to speak up! You’ve got the principal at your beck and call. No one can come forward without putting their reputations at risk!”

“Lying should hurt a person’s reputation. The moment I made it big, accusations started dropping on me left and right. Aren’t I allowed to defend myself?”

The temptation to leave them behind was strong. He hadn’t been spotted yet, and no one would know he was there if he walked away. Ren and Ryuji had known what they were getting into, so why would they need his help? They would have asked for it if they needed it. All he was doing was intruding on a private conversation. He needed to walk away.

Like the coward he was.

“Not if they’re tellin’ the truth! You know damn well that you’ve been treating everyone like garbage!”

“Respect is earned, not given. I treat my students the way they deserve.”

He should leave his only friends to deal with Kamoshida by themselves. Wasn’t that the smartest approach to take? Of all the times to grow a spine, why did it have to be now?

“We’ve seen it with our own eyes! You’re abusing your position for your own benefit!”

“Is that all you got?” Kamoshida asked, punctuating his remark with a yawn. “If you’re here to spread baseless accusations, then I might as well call Principal Kobayakawa in. He’ll know who’s in the right.”

Anyone but Kobayakawa, Yuuki thought. The other faculty might hear Ren and Ryuji out, but the principal had a stake in maintaining Kamoshida’s image. Their protests would be ignored strictly based on their reputations. There was only one person present that Kobayakawa might believe, and that was Yuuki himself.

Against his better judgment – not to mention the possible consequences it could have – he stormed into Kamoshida’s office, pointing at the briefly-stunned coach before letting loose.

“Everything they said is true, Kamoshida-san! You’ve treated everyone horribly since you arrived at Shujin! You work your athletes to death, beat students who step out of line, and kick out anyone who complains! If you had anything close to a heart, you would have resigned in shame long ago!”

Breathing hard from nervousness, Yuuki felt a squig of glee at his own audaciousness. He had really done it. In a situation where he was tempted to run, he held his ground and stood up for his friends. He almost felt proud of himself, even more so when his friends joined him at his sides.

That pride was immediately crushed when Kamoshida leaned over him, easily intimidating him with his size. Yuuki had forgotten what kind of person he had been criticizing.

Sneering at his accusers, Kamoshida said, “Are you gonna act like you’re a hero now? Did you forget that it’s your fault Amamiya has to put up with those rumors? Or did you never tell him that you readily spread them for me?”

Yuuki wasn’t quick enough to avoid Ren’s gaze. He could read so much from those slightly-lowered eyes: the shock, the hurt, the betrayal. He was obviously waiting for Yuuki to step up and deny the claims. Some part of him was sorely tempted to do so, even if it was a bald-faced lie.

“This ain’t about what Mishima did!” Ryuji countered. “It’s about your shitty actions!”

“I’ve heard enough,” Kamoshida flatly said. “Know what? Forget suspension, I’ll just have you all expelled for threatening me.”

 _Expelled_. That one word struck him harder than any physical blow Kamoshida had dealt him in the past. It meant the end of his academic career at Shujin – and, quite possibly, any other school in Shibuya. He was an honors student with some of the highest test scores in the academy. He and his parents took pride in his grades. How could he break it to his family that he had thrown it all away?

He had been so concerned about losing volleyball that he had lost sight of the big picture. He should have dropped out of that team when he had the chance. He had ruined one of his few friendships trying to stay in, and now he had ruined his future at Shujin Academy by refusing to leave. Maybe Kamoshida was right; maybe he really _was_ a complete dumbass.

Even Ren looked shaken-up at the threat. “You…you can’t…”

“Who says I can’t do it? A couple of thugs who have assault records? A nosy prick with no friends or aspirations? I’ll be doing Shujin a favor by getting you expelled. I’ll just say you tried to hit me.”

Ryuji’s foot stamped against the floor tiles. “ _This is bullshit!_ You can’t expel us for something we didn’t do!”

“Who’s to say you didn’t? You look like you want to take a swing at me right now. Isn’t that right, slugger?” Kamoshida tauntingly lowered his head near Ryuji. Turning toward the boy’s curled-up fists, he said, “Come on, give it another shot. Get my good side.”

Ren clamped his hands around Ryuji’s arms. “ _We_. _Are_. _Leaving_.”

In an effort to defuse the situation, Ren retreated from his office with Ryuji in tow, even as the other boy struggled to not clobber Kamoshida. Shame washed over Yuuki as they left. He had failed them and himself in the same breath.

Halfway out the door, Yuuki felt Kamoshida’s fingers clasp his collar. “We’re not done. Find Suzui and tell her I want to see her immediately.”

Too demoralized to object, Yuuki reluctantly followed his orders and headed for the garden. Shiho usually met up with Ann there after classes, so if she was still around, he could find her there. He didn’t bother to ask why Kamoshida wanted to see her – trying to assert himself had only exacerbated his problems.

He was so caught up in his misery that he barely noticed Futaba lurking outside of Kamoshida’s office. Squeaking at his sudden appearance, she fled before he could raise any questions.

* * *

Something was upsetting Futaba, Sojiro knew that for certain.

Dinner was typically a quiet affair for them, where they exchanged snippets of their days over a hot meal. The knowledge that the other would be there was enough. If they were to socialize, breakfast and lunch were the occasions to do so.

Even so, it wasn’t like Futaba to clam up completely at night. She was almost always bursting with enthusiasm, ready to talk his ear off with tech-speak or let loose some witty remarks. Instead, she idly played around with the scraps on her place, prodding them around into separate piles.

He wasn’t one to intrude on personal business, but he was willing to make an exception for his daughter.

“You don’t have to organize your leftovers, you know,” he chuckled. “They’ll just be going into the trash.”

Futaba mumbled something back. With her sleeve covering her mouth, he could barely make out what she said.

He may as well be direct. “Is everything okay? Are you having trouble with classes, or did something happen with your friends? You can talk to me, you know that.”

“I know…it’s just…” She propped her chin on her arm. “Let’s say I have a friend who might be in trouble. We’ll call him…‘Shinji.’”

“Okay…”

“And, uh, ‘Shinji’ is an alright guy. He keeps to himself, but has a few friends. Decent grades, too. But he has a problem with biting off more than he can chew, and it really came back to haunt him today.”

Sojiro could see where this was going. “How so?” he innocently asked.

“So, ‘Shinji’ caught wind of a coach at Shujin that’s a real piece of work. He pushes around the guys and hits on the girls. No one who’s stood up to him has stuck around at the school. He and another friend tried to call the coach out, but it all went downhill, and now he’s in deep with no way to get out-”

“-I’m going to take a wild guess, but is this ‘Shinji’ supposed to be Ren?”

Futaba abruptly stood up, rattling the plates and silverware. “It’s not fair!” she cried. “He didn’t do anything wrong! It’s all that Kamoshida’s fault! He should be the one getting expelled from Shujin, not Ren!”

 _Expelled?_ Had he heard her right? Ren wasn’t even into his first week at the school, and already there was talk of expulsion? Hadn’t he learned _anything_ from his little rant, or had it gone in one ear and out the other?

“Expelled from Shujin? Futaba, you can’t mean-”

“-Kamoshida threatened to kick out all three of them! Ren, Ryuji, and Mishiba are all getting punished for standing up to him! The worst part is that no one will defend them! The principal is such a suck-up that he’ll do whatever that creep says!”

He didn’t know the other boys, but Ren didn’t strike him as the type to mix with the wrong crowd. There wasn’t much to go on, but Sojiro could make some safe assumptions. Ren, the idealistic crusader that he was, probably had a run-in with this Kamoshida that showed how rotten he was. He gathered a couple students who had suffered at the coach’s hands, confronted him, and realized too late what he was up against. In an effort to be a hero, he ended up disgraced and on the track to expulsion.

“Geez, he really screwed the pooch. How am I going to explain this to his folks? They’ll want answers. Might even blame me for what happened…”

“He didn’t screw anything up! If it weren’t for that coach, he wouldn’t be in trouble in the first place! It’s all because Kamoshida parades around like he’s the king of Shujin!”

Sojiro didn’t expect he’d have to step in so early, but he couldn’t let Ren ruin his future so soon. After giving him some _very_ stern lectures, he would contact the school’s administrators and explain the situation. If necessary, he could try to hash out a compromise that would keep him enrolled.

For now, he had to convince Futaba that he would actually intervene.

“Alright, alright,” Sojiro calmly said. “I believe you. I’m not going to hang him out to dry. I’ll make some calls, see if I can’t make an appeal.”

Futaba had retreated further into her hoodie. Her sleeves hung loosely while her head was partially-concealed by its collar. He could see the outline of her arms wrapped around her waist. The sight brought back unpleasant memories, mostly of her adoption’s early days. He could still see her, a girl just starting her teens, curled up in a ball in the corner of her room, weeping bitterly while he looked on helplessly.

He shook away the painful recollection. Lightly patting his daughter’s head, Sojiro continued to reassure her. “I promise I won’t let Ren down. You can count on me.”

Futaba slowly pushed her arms back into her sleeves. “You’ll give him another chance?” she quietly asked.

“It’s why I took him in, isn’t it? Wouldn’t be fair to let him slip up this early.” Sojiro reminded himself to lecture Ren well before he stepped in. “I’ll take care of clean-up tonight. You should get some rest.”

Futaba returned to her room, leaving Sojiro to wash their dishes and weigh his options.

Ren was as impulsive and brash as he expected, but this Kamoshida character sounded like a wolf among sheep. He couldn’t blame the boy for wanting to take him down a notch. Given how much Shujin praised and coddled Kamoshida, it figured that he had the influence to get students expelled. That would make Sojiro’s efforts much trickier.

An urge in the back of his head made him unlock his phone. He flipped to the mostly-empty fourth page, where only one icon remained: the red eye of the Metaverse app. It would be so easy to press it and dive back into the cognitive world. He could hunt for Kamoshida’s shadow and knock some sense into it, then leave before he took any heat. So simple, so straightforward. He could do the job in the morning and be back before Leblanc’s opening hours.

Sojiro gruffly closed his phone. He wouldn’t go down that path. He wasn’t that kind of person anymore. That world was nothing but a death trap, something that Wakaba’s passing and his close call in Futaba’s palace exemplified. There were normal ways to fix this issue before it escalated. If Kamoshida wouldn’t listen to reason, then someone above him had to. The school’s administrative staff didn’t stop at Kobayakawa. All he had to do was get one of them on his side, then have them pressure the principal into taking action.

Nobody would get hurt, and he could go on living his life as usual. There was nothing to worry about. After all, what were the odds of Kamoshida going after a girl like Futaba?

One of the plates slipped through Sojiro’s fingers, clattering against the slippery surface of the sink.

Wait, what _were_ the odds of him going after Futaba?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's coming to a head. Expect more from Sojiro, Kawakami, and Mishima next chapter, as they deal with the aftermath of the impending expulsion. Their paths will cross soon enough.
> 
> All of the misspellings of "Mishima" were intentional. Poor guy can't catch a break...


	5. Flatline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a forewarning, the first three segments of this chapter directly cover Shiho's suicide attempt.

Nothing mattered to her anymore.

In her waking moments, all she could see was him, his lecherous face leering at her. She couldn’t escape the humiliation, the misery she felt. Every inch of her felt as if it were exposed – no, _violated_.

When she was alone, her thoughts drifted back to that wretched afternoon. She hadn’t expected a pleasant day to twist and turn in such horrific ways, but what student should have to live in fear of that? They were supposed to be protected at Shujin. It was a school for the best and brightest, and ensuring their safety was supposed to be a top priority.

She had bought into the lie hook, line, and sinker. Now, she knew the miserable truth, and had paid for it with her innocence.

He had taken so much from her: her pride, her self-respect, her faith in her seniors. Everything that guided her life had been cruelly ripped away. She couldn’t confide her despair in anyone, not even her family or Ann. Try as they might, they wouldn’t understand. She hoped that they would never have to understand what she went through.

Kamoshida had stolen the perfect little life she had built for herself. He had denied her any agency in his depraved encounter with her.

But that didn’t matter anymore. There was one last choice she could make.

Wordlessly, Shiho Suzui stepped onto the edge of the school roof. The distant ground of the garden waited for her below, enticing her to take action.

* * *

Someone had gotten into Yuuki’s phone without him knowing.

That’s the only explanation he had for what he was seeing. At the bottom of his smartphone’s app selection was an icon he didn’t recognize: a reddish square with a large eye in its center. Its label read “Metaverse Navigator,” a name that brought back no results in the app store. According to his statistics, it had never been opened until this morning.

What it did was an enigma. Upon using it for the first time, he was asked for a name, a location, and a keyword. Assuming it was a tie-in for one of his games, he messed around with it until his first class started, getting no further to unraveling its mysteries than when he had started.

Whatever the app was meant for, its creator had to be a programming genius. He found no traces of it online, not even on the shadier parts of the internet. Its copyright data was of no help to him, since the letters in the company name and date kept shifting around. If this was part of some elaborate prank, he had to respect the sheer dedication required to throw it together.

He could only think of one person he knew with the skills to pull this off. Ignoring the droning of his current class’s lecture, he slipped his phone under his desk and began typing a message.

 **Mishima:** I give. What’d you do with my phone?

 **Futaba:** ???

 **Mishima:** There’s an app I didn’t install. Someone else put it on.

 **Futaba:** okay…

 **Mishima:** Come on, joke’s over. Tell me what this does. Is it a bug? Are you tapping my calls?

 **Futaba:** I don’t tap YOUR calls

 **Futaba:** too boring tbh

 **Mishima:** Wait, how would you know if my calls were boring?

 **Futaba:** …

 **Futaba:** so there’s an app you don’t recognize?

 **Mishima:** Yeah. Red and black with an eye in the center.

 **Mishima:** It’s kind of spooky.

 **Futaba:** never heard of it

 **Futaba:** can’t get any results on it from my usual sites

 **Futaba:** has someone been surfing the darkweb lately?

 **Mishima:** What???

 **Futaba:** >:D

 **Futaba:** knew it

 **Futaba:** Michima’s a dirty perv~

He closed his phone in frustration. If it wasn’t Futaba, then who had done it? No way was it Kamoshida – he didn’t have the technical smarts, and the expulsion threat was more than enough to wear Yuuki down.

He had been losing sleep over the looming end of his education. Every time he went home, he dreaded the possibility that someone might have informed his parents. It was easy being hated by a guy like Kamoshida, but to lose his family’s trust and respect? That knife would drive deep into his heart.

Any hope he held for a lucky break was being cut short. Kamoshida had officially dropped him from the volleyball team and barred him from his office. The odds of Yuuki winning his favor were miniscule, and the chance he might have a change of heart and rescind the threat was slim to none. All he could do was wallow in his guilt, dreading the moment he would be ousted from Shujin Academy, with no friends and no potential for-

“-There’s a girl on the roof! She’s standing over the edge!”

Everyone in his class shot up. All eyes darted to the side view of the roof, where the students watched in equal astonishment and horror. Precariously perched on the ledge was a girl in a plain white sweater. Her whole body trembled as she inched closer to her fate.

“Holy hell, she’s gonna jump!”

One look at her was enough to make Yuuki recoil. “Shiho?” he gasped aloud.

Taking one last glance behind her, Shiho closed her eyes and took her final step.

A collective shriek rose up throughout the school. Some shielded their eyes, others fled the classrooms in terror. A few gawked out of morbid curiosity.

“Everybody, calm down!” cried Ushimaru, the resident social studies teacher. “Remain in your seats while we handle this!”

Pulling out his phone, he frantically called for an ambulance, rattling off details of the incident as rapidly as he could.

While the school spiraled out of control, Yuuki stood frozen in sheer horror. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. Anything he could have said was drowned out by a recurring thought.

_I did this._

_I told her to go see Kamoshida._

_I could have ignored him, but I didn’t._

_This is all my fault._

* * *

Midway through Sadayo’s Japanese language lecture, a second-year pointed out what was occurring on the roof. Panic spread among her students as they realized what was about to happen.

Once Suzui took that last leap to self-destruction, time appeared to stall. Most of her class had the chance to shield their eyes or look away from the soon-to-be-grisly sight. Some were already on their phones, calling their families in panicked tones or dialing up emergency services. All of her students’ responses were healthy and rational.

For Sadayo, any hope for rational thought vanished once she put two-and-two together.

Suzui had visited her not long ago about Kamoshida. She said quite clearly that he had been abusing male and female students alike, and that she was frightened no one else would believe her. Instead of taking it to Shujin’s administration, like a responsible teacher should, she kept her lips sealed in fear of reprisal. In Suzui’s hour of need, she had plainly told her that she couldn’t help. She must have lost all hope for change…or, heaven forbid, became prey for Kamoshida.

And now, with nowhere else to turn, she had given into her despair and thrown her life away.

Guilt tearing away at her soul, Sadayo kept her eyes fixed on Suzui during her rapid descent. Like the heartless monster she was, she watched as the girl’s legs crumpled on impact, her body following suit as she slammed into the ground. To her relief, she didn’t strike her head or neck on the way down. There was a small chance she could pull through, no matter how badly-injured the rest of her body was.

Having already bolted from her class, Takamaki ran to Suzui’s side. Tears threatened to overwhelm Sadayo as the poor girl was put on a stretcher and carried away.

What was she supposed to do now? What could she possibly tell her students? That it was alright, she might survive her injuries? They weren’t stupid, and neither was she. The truth of the matter was clear.

_I did this._

_I should have been more forceful on her behalf._

_If I had pushed Kobayakawa to intervene, Suzui might have found the will to keep going._

_I could have saved her, but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself._

_This is all my fault._

* * *

The morning coffee rush was one of Café Leblanc’s busiest times. For a few solid hours, orders poured in for blends of all flavors and sizes. Though lunch and dinner drew a modest business, they couldn’t compare to the deluge of salarymen and office workers that arrived shortly after opening. Sojiro suspected that most of his revenue came from this period.

It was times like these, when he filled one order and found two more waiting for him, that he wished he would have hired on a part-timer. Even he had his limits, and as the morning was showing him, he could only concentrate on so much at a time. Having a couple dozen people packed together like sardines in Leblanc greatly increased his job’s difficulty. In addition to juggling specific orders, he also had to memorize who wanted what amid their noisy, overlapping conversations. The acoustics at his shop didn’t account for this many customers being present at once.

Though difficult, Sojiro never let the stress get to him. As the saying went, “money talks,” and he found its arguments very convincing.

Halfway through filling an order for a caramel latte, he noticed that his customers’ attentions had turned towards Leblanc’s TV.

“Isn’t that the academy downtown, Shujin or something?” asked a graying businessman.

Digging out the remote, Sojiro turned up the volume. At that point, it was a pointless move, since the crowd’s loud enthusiasm had died down. It had gotten quiet worryingly fast.

News vans took up nearly every parking space outside Shujin Academy. Throngs of reporters were packed near its entrance, reading off whatever information they could scrape up on short notice. Several cameras were focused on the school’s entrance, awaiting an official statement on whatever had happened inside its walls.

Sojiro’s stomach was twisting into knots. He knew nothing good could have happened to warrant such a massive turnout.

Channel 10’s camera cut to a young female journalist. Microphone in hand, she began to speak.

“We are live in front of Shujin Academy, where a suicide attempt has left a female student in critical condition. The student has yet to be identified. So far, Shujin officials have declined to comment on the incident. We will be reporting back as this story develops…”

Ringing filled Sojiro’s ears, overtaking the noise from his television set. Sweat had begun to accumulate along his arms and neck. His breathing had turned ragged and panicked.

An unidentified female student at Shujin had tried to kill herself. His thoughts drifted back to Futaba’s palace and the suicidal thoughts that had created it.

Please don’t let it be her.

One of his regulars nudged him. “Doesn’t your daughter go there, Sakura?”

Snapped out of his fright, Sojiro dialed Futaba’s number on his phone, nearly missing the buttons as he rushed to hear from her. Every ring was drawn-out and painful. Whenever she seemed ready to pick up, he caught his breath.

“Pick up, _please_.”

The call kept going. If it went to voicemail, he doubted he would be able to keep standing. Anything less than an answer would destroy him.

A heavy click left his phone’s speakers. “…Sojiro?” his daughter whimpered on the other line.

Sojiro breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you okay? What happened over there?”

“I’m…fine, but…” He heard her sniff and wipe her eyes. “A second-year girl threw herself off the roof, and no one’s sure if she’ll make it. I turned away, but I saw her while she was falling. I…I’m so scared…it’s like what happened to Mom all over again…”

At least she was alive. For now, that’s all Sojiro would worry about.

“They’re letting us out early…all the teachers are trying to get this under control. I heard the principal say it was a PR nightmare.”

A PR nightmare? A kid was seriously injured, possibly on death’s door, and the faculty at Shujin were worried about positive press? Sojiro’s blood was ready to boil. That red-hot rage against injustice, dormant since Wakaba’s death, was threatening to flare up again. What kind of sick bastards were running this school? Were they that petty? If they were willing to keep on an abusive pervert for their volleyball coach, maybe they were as heartless as he imagined.

…No. He was being irrational. One or two bad administrators doesn’t mean the entire school was rotten. Besides, what could he do about this? Drag them out to the public square to confess their crimes? Where could he even start?

Unconsciously, he had begun to press on the lower right-hand corner of his phone, where the Metaverse Navigator app usually sat.

Absolutely out of the question. As he constantly reminded himself, he wasn’t that person anymore.

…Was he, though? If he didn’t do something, then who would? Who’s to say that this girl would be the only one to attempt suicide? What if another student tried it next week? What if the abuse and torment piled up, driving more students to take their own lives?

_What if Futaba was next?_

An almost-animalistic grunt escaped Sojiro’s lips. “Futaba, come home immediately. Make sure Ren returns with you.”

“O-okay…” she sniffed.

Closing the call, he prepared to finish up the morning’s orders. Once everyone had been served, Leblanc would close early for the day.

He had unexpected business to take care of.

* * *

Sifting through Wakaba’s final care package was painful, but necessary for what he had planned. Within it were the final supplies she had for a palace hit, prepared mere days before she had been struck down.

Over her grave, Sojiro had promised to watch over Futaba and stay out of danger for her sake. That meant no more risks, no more smoking, and avoiding the Metaverse altogether. He had already broken the first two promises, and now he was preparing to break the third.

He hoped Wakaba would agree that this was necessary.

Beneath some of her notes on their last target, Sojiro uncovered the tools he needed: two bottles of Recover-R 50mg and a model silenced pistol. Shaking the containers, he found one to be empty, and the other to be a third full of painkillers. The model handgun had some damage to its slide and grip, likely from the eventful move into Sojiro’s home. Ignoring the potential risks, he pocketed both items and shoved the cardboard box back under his bed.

Full awareness of the situation finally dawned on Sojiro. Over all of his past objections, he was headed back into the cognitive world.

On the drive to Shujin Academy, he decided on his target. Principal Kobayakawa had already earned his suspicion, given how focused he was on netting fluff pieces about his school. The blubbery fool was vain and obnoxious, but would he have a palace? He didn’t act particularly hostile or conceited during their meeting, just full of himself and proud of Shujin. Without a palace, tracking down his shadow would take too long for a one-man operation.

Scratching him off the list, Sojiro settled on another target: Suguru Kamoshida. If even half of what Futaba said was accurate, the man was truly despicable. He preyed on kids and silenced their cries of protest. There was no doubt in his mind that Kamoshida had a palace. All he had to do was figure out what it was. With the context clues Futaba had accidentally provided, he could make some educated guesses to narrow it down.

Parking in a nearby garage, Sojiro went over his plan of attack as he approached Shujin. He would enter Kamoshida’s palace and secure a route to his treasure. After that, he would deliver a calling card to him. Once he was positive the coach had gotten it, Sojiro would swipe his treasure, and maybe beat his shadow into a pulp for good measure. Once Kamoshida confessed everything, the pressure would be on for the rest of Shujin’s administrators to resign or make similar confessions.

Standing at an unoccupied corner of Shujin’s grounds, Sojiro checked to make sure he was alone. Confident no one could see him, he opened the Metaverse app for the first time in two years. Its all-seeing eye gazed back at him.

“Please select a destination,” it said in a mechanical, female voice.

He still remembered the basics. To get inside, he would need to know three things: a person’s name, a location, and the form their palace had taken.

He could still turn back. “Suguru Kamoshida.”

“Match confirmed.”

No one would fault him if he didn’t take this route. “Shujin Academy.”

“Match confirmed.”

There were ways to resolve this within the law. “Fortress.”

“No match found.”

It was up to the police and courts to bring justice. “Estate.”

“No match found.”

Who was he to question the natural order of society?

A phantom thief, that’s who he was. “Castle.”

The app whirred to life. The world around him blurred into a kaleidoscopic vision of distorted buildings and neon colors.

“Beginning navigation…”

* * *

Kamoshida’s death grip on Shujin Academy felt unbreakable now. If he wasn’t going to be punished for what he did to Shiho, then there was little anyone could do to stop him. Yuuki was ready to give up all hope when a last, desperate course of action dawned on him. It might prove a fruitless venture, but the morning’s events convinced him that _something_ needed to be done. He resented his own cowardice as it was, and he would never forgive himself if he didn’t exhaust all of his options.

When most students had already left the school, he snuck upstairs around empty classrooms and quiet hallways. Nestled in the middle of the second floor was the teacher’s lounge. Aside from acting as a lunch room for faculty, some students went there for private lessons or personal advice. He expected to be its only visitor for the rest of the day.

Yuuki knocked before entering, a habit his parents had instilled in him from an early age. A solitary figure waited inside, sulking with her head pressed against an end table. Tear stains ran along her mascara as she raised her head.

“…Mishima?” Kawakami despondently asked.

He felt dirty for intruding at such a horrible time, but he couldn’t let this slide anymore.

“Kawakami-san, you have to do something about Kamoshida!” he cried. “You and I both know he did this to Shiho! He’s been going after her for weeks! What else could have pushed her to that point?”

“I know…I know…” She rose up from her chair. “It’s my fault. She told me all about him, and I didn’t do a thing to help her…”

“She told you about Kamoshida?” An uncharacteristic surge of anger overtook him. “And you _didn’t_ _report him_ to anyone?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good! Everyone takes his side, even the ones that know what he’s been up to! I would have gotten myself fired for speaking out!”

“Better that then moping around and feeling sorry for yourself! Don’t you care about your students?”

Kawakami’s lips twitched. Her stare had turned cold, hard. He had struck a nerve without intending to, converting her guilt-fueled depression into defensive anger.

“How dare you act like I don’t care about them! Do you know how much I lost the last time I got close to one? I’m still paying for that mistake today!”

Yuuki backed against the lounge’s door as Kawakami approached him. It was the first time he had seen her legitimately furious. It was _frightening_ , like she was venting years of held-back rage.

“You’ve never had your job dangled over your head, one that you spent years trying to get! You think I don’t believe what I’ve heard about Suguru Kamoshida? I know he’s a cruel bastard that controls Shujin Academy like he’s the king of the damn castle!”

His phone’s backlight lit up. “Beginning navigation,” said a muffled robotic voice.

“And you think you can judge me because I haven’t done a thing about it? I can’t do anything, that’s the problem! I’m powerless here! We all are! There’s nothing anyone in this school can do other than Kobayakawa, and he’s get his head so far up Kamoshida’s ass that no one can reason with him!”

It was all so surreal. His phone had been hacked, he had seen a close friend try to kill herself, and now he was being cursed out by a teacher he had once thought timid. The day was like some fever dream where one horrible event blended into another, creating an incomprehensible slop of vague memories. It was as if the walls were melting and the ground was swirling around him.

Yuuki blinked. To his disbelief, the walls were, in fact, melting away into thick stone slabs, and the ground was glowing an unearthly pink. Ripples appeared in the sky as the world shook.

He was just hallucinating. All of his stress had gotten to him. He would close his eyes, and when he opened them, everything would be back to normal.

He opened his eyes, only to find ramparts and towers rising in the distance, overtaking Shibuya’s skyline. He was wrong; it was getting even worse.

In equal amazement, Kawakami took a nervous step back. “Mishima, tell me I’m not the only one seeing this.”

Without warning, the two were enveloped in a blinding light. With every blink, Yuuki saw his surroundings shift further away from reality.

This wasn’t real, he told himself. This was a dream. Yeah, that’s what it was, just another bad dream. He was in no danger.

He would wake up any moment now.


	6. Long, Long Way From Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Am I late, or am I late?
> 
> The answer is that I'm very late, and I apologize for the unexpected delay between chapters 5 and 6. I spent February and early March doing work on a side project, which led to me neglecting this story. I intend to get back on track with this.

Stepping back into the cognitive world was like opening up a scab. The brief shock and flow of adrenaline quickly ebbed out, soon followed by the sinking realization of the problem at hand. Sojiro had a mess that needed to be dealt with, but this wasn’t a problem he could solve with some bandages and disinfectant.

He had been out of the game for two years. If Wakaba’s theories were right – and they usually were right – the Metaverse was anything but stagnant. Who knew how much had changed since his last infiltration? He was only certain of one thing: this world couldn’t have gotten safer in that time.

That threat wouldn’t be enough to deter him, though. He had a job to do, and it wasn’t just for his daughter’s sake. Ren and countless students at Shujin had been feeling the squeeze from its tyrannical volleyball coach. None of them would be safe until Kamoshida was brought to heel.

That all started here, at his castle in the cognitive world.

Before he could begin his infiltration, he needed to see how his other half was holding up. Moving gloved hands over his frowning mask, he forcefully removed it, wincing at the unexpected pain from the maneuver. Either he had forgotten what the sensation felt like, or it stung worse than the last time he had done it.

A tremor ran under his feet. In an instant, his persona stood before him. Even with its head obscured by flames, Sojiro could see its glowing eyes narrow.

Pechorin was the first to start talking. _Not what I had expected, old friend. I assumed you had retired from this way of life._

“I tried, but I couldn’t stick my head in the sand forever. I needed to take action.”

 _I am aware of this,_ it chuckled. _Did you think I had vanished once you left her palace? You and I are equal parts of one another. I existed in your subconscious, speaking to you indirectly._

“At least you’re good for something,” Sojiro wryly shot back. He shuffled his feet, which were once again clad in polished dress shoes. “Truth be told, I missed you.”

_The feeling is mutual. I look forward to our renewed partnership._

“Hey, don’t get any ideas about this becoming a habit! This is one final job, nothing more.”

Pechorin’s booming voice rang out with laughter. _Whatever you say, old friend._

Sojiro gazed back at the looming entrance to Kamoshida’s castle. Once again, he was about to infiltrate a palace with no real plan or preparation. Doubts over his ability to cheat death were creeping in, but he couldn’t afford to turn back now. People were counting on him, even more so than his last visit to the Metaverse. He just hoped that his raw power and knack for eluding danger would get him through this one.

Steeling himself for whatever lay ahead, he walked over the drawbridge and took his first steps into the castle.

* * *

Sadayo’s idea of a bad day involved traffic jams, uncooperative students, newly-arrived bills, and lukewarm coffee. In all of her years of teaching, she could have never anticipated a nightmare like this.

Against all notions of normalcy, she and Mishima had somehow ended up in a lavishly-decorated throne room. This was, of course, despite not setting foot out of Shujin Academy.

Mishima gawked at the unreal change in scenery. He whirled around, gaping at the sheer display of wealth that surrounded them. Spotless red carpets, furniture plated with polished gold, an oversized chandelier…it was all befitting of an absolute monarch from the Renaissance. Only problem was that they were in Shibuya, not some European palace-turned-museum. None of what they were seeing made sense.

She badly wanted to believe that they were both having a stress-induced breakdown.

“Kawakami-san, are you _seeing_ this?” he asked in disbelief. “I’m not going crazy, am I? This is all real, isn’t it?”

When her name was said aloud, a ripple swam across her vision. At the same time, Mishima stumbled back and swatted away at an unseen disturbance.

He dropped to the floor and ran his hands along the carpet’s fine material. “If this is all in my head, then it’s more vivid than any dream I’ve had.”

A pink haze hung in the air, obscuring the halls out of the room. Sadayo hesitantly reached her hand out to the throne, stroking its supports. She traced her thumb over the engravings on its legs, taking in the amount of detail worked into it.

It was getting tougher to deny that this wasn’t a mere hallucination. As frightened as she was to admit it, all the evidence was pointing towards this being a real place. She needed to figure out where they were and, more importantly, how they could get home.

The thunderous clanking of metallic footsteps roused their attention. Any hopes for escape were dashed when Sadayo saw the new arrivals stomp into the room. Clad in dark armor and towering well over her or Mishima, the two imposing figures grunted at them.

“Intruders on this floor? The king will want to know how they got this far undetected. Detain them.”

The guard’s voice crackled with an almost-unearthly sound, like two individuals were speaking simultaneously. He and his companion looked like knights out of some re-enactment, but his tone suggested anything but amusement at their presence. She doubted that the day would end with some frothy mugs of mead and a friendly joust.

“What’s going on?” cried a baffled Mishima. “What _is_ this? Who are you people? Where are we, anyway?”

A sinister glow illuminated the knights’ helmets, almost like a set of red searchlights. “You have one chance to surrender. Walk over slowly and cooperate with us, or we will take you by force.”

Normally, Sadayo would be flooding them with questions, but her thoughts seemed to be coming at a snail’s pace. She hadn’t come to terms with what she was seeing, despite her best efforts to move on and salvage the situation. So much had happened in a short span of time, all starting with Suzui’s attempt on her own life. She felt like she was ready to shut down, to curl up in a ball and hope this would resolve itself.

Mishima backed away from the approaching guards. His fists clenched tighter with every step they took, fearful of whatever they had planned. “Just tell us what this is all about! We don’t even know how we got here, much less-”

With one swift motion, the knight struck Mishima with the hilt of his sword, knocking him against the floor. A weak moan left his lips. His arms trembled as he attempted to get up, only to be pushed back down by the boot of that inhuman guard.

Seeing another one of her students get abused was too much for her. Snapping out of her apathetic state, Sadayo suddenly found her voice.

“Get your hands off him!” she shrieked.

With unnatural speed, the other guard grabbed hold of her and effortlessly lifted her in the air. His fingers clenched around her throat. Sadayo gagged, gasping for air and futilely kicking her legs around as she was pulled away.

Her breaths came out in weak spurts. Without enough air, her vision was blurring. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the first knight fling Mishima over his shoulder and follow her captor. She fought back tears as his bruised face came into view.

Yet again, she had failed a student in his hour of need.

* * *

One sweeping look around Kamoshida’s castle was enough to confirm the rumors around him, that the accusations of lecherous behavior and a bloated ego were absolutely true.

Sojiro had only ventured into the lobby, yet he already felt sickened to his core. Statues of half-naked female students adorned the staircase and walls, reflecting the perverted desires of the palace’s owner. The faint smell of sweat and perfume carried throughout the room, with an odor just strong enough to make him gag. In the distance, he saw stained glass windows of Kamoshida, depicting him in triumphant poses.

In his past infiltrations, he thought he had seen the worst humanity had to offer. Now, the financial misdeeds of his past targets seemed downright tame. Preying on adults was one thing, but going after kids who couldn’t fight back? This was a new low.

He would have to work quickly to steal that treasure. The longer he took, the greater chance that this creep would hurt more people.

Securing an infiltration route would be simple enough. Taking a knee beside the staircase, Sojiro laid in wait for the next patrol of shadows to arrive. If his guess was correct, his power would exceed even that of the strongest shadows in the castle. All he had to do was ambush the patrolling guards until one started spilling secrets. There were always hidden paths to take in a palace. With any luck, one would give him an easier way to the treasure room.

Sojiro felt a nudging sensation within himself. _There’s something you should know_ , Pechorin began. _Things aren’t the same as they were before, old friend._

Around the door came the heavy steps of approaching shadows. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

_This cannot wait. You are overestimating-_

“-How about when we’re not about to start a fight?” Sojiro dismissively said. “Can you hold it until then?”

With a frustrated sigh, his persona silenced whatever its thoughts had been.

Sojiro could make out three figures not far from the main hall. He would handle it like any other encounter: leap onto the shadow’s shoulders, rip off its mask, and attack the startled creature before it could regain its bearings. Along the way, he would probably work in some grandiose footwork or over-the-top gestures. He rarely intended to do them before a fight, but the Metaverse had a way of bringing out his wilder side.

Just as they turned the corner, Sojiro leaped into action. Aiming for the middle shadow, he hurled himself in the air and landed squarely on its shoulders. Amid their startled cries, he reached for a mask, finding only soft skin and bushy hair where it would be. He barely had time to assess the situation before his intended victim threw him off. His reflexes were still sharp enough for him to effortlessly land on his feet.

Flanked by two hulking shadows in medieval armor, the unfamiliar figure sneered at him. “What the hell are you doing? Who are you?”

He was a tall man, athletically-built and well-groomed. He wore the crown and cape of a king, but left little else to the imagination. His only other item of clothing was a flashy pink speedo. Nearly every inch of skin was exposed, right down to his hairy legs.

It didn’t take a detective prince to guess who the man was.

“I asked you a question, dumbass!” Shadow Kamoshida spat. His glowing yellow eyes narrowed with repressed anger. “Tell me what you’re doing in my castle!”

One of his shadows pointed towards Sojiro. “Look at his mask. Maybe he’s a court jester.”

If there was a time for a grand introduction, it was now. “I am the legendary phantom thief, Solo! Your distorted desires are harming the innocent! Today, I will rip them away from you!”

None of his targets responded. Shadow Kamoshida tilted his head, staring blankly in light of his declaration.

“You need new material,” he finally said. “Come back when you have some gut-busting jokes to share. Maybe then I’ll hire you on.”

Had his threat gone over Kamoshida’s head? Hadn’t they understood what he had tried to do to them? Or did they really think he was that insignificant of a challenge? Whatever the case, it was time to instill some humility into the creep’s shadow.

Sojiro’s handgun flashed brightly in the open. Aimed squarely at Shadow Kamoshida’s chest, its presence turned his target’s indifference into anger.

“Are you threatening me, jester? I’ll have your head for this defiance!”

The shadow knights growled, clutching their swords tightly as they prepared to attack Sojiro. He couldn’t help but smirk at their overconfidence. He had destroyed stronger opponents than them without breaking a sweat. He swung the barrel to one of the shadows, squeezed the trigger-

-and it gave way, pulling loose from the pistol. It clattered faintly as it struck the tiles. The slide and hammer came loose shortly after. Sojiro watched in disbelief as his sidearm fell apart before his very eyes.

A round of hearty laughs and sarcastic clapping followed. “You know, if you were trying to play a joke on me, I’d say that was a good one! But you weren’t, were you? You actually thought you could take me down in my own home!”

Had he forgotten to maintain Wakaba’s model this entire time? It had taken some hits over the years. If he had bothered to test it out, given it a closer look in reality, maybe he would have caught its issues before he needed it. Then again, he wouldn’t be in this palace if he wasn’t the type to ignore risks.

He let the rest of the gun drop with its pieces. It wouldn’t be needed, anyway. He had a far more flexible power at his fingertips.

Summoning Pechorin from the depths of his soul, Sojiro concentrated his energy on the shadows before him. “Agilao!” he cried.

Fire should have shot up from the ground, consuming his foes in an unstoppable inferno. He should have been able to turn his attention to Shadow Kamoshida, then given him a well-earned beatdown for everything he had done.

Not even a hint of embers came forth. That immense power he once held was eluding him. What was going on? Was this palace interfering with his abilities somehow?

Amid his confusion, the shadows rushed him. He dove back from their attacks, finding a wall blocking his immediate escape. Oversized swords sliced the air around him, every swing a near-miss that left no room for comfort. This was all wrong. Where was his unending stamina, his devastating attacks? What had _happened_ to him?

A steel-plated leg swung out, catching him as he attempted another roll. Gloved fists struck at him before he could recover, hitting him harder than they should be able to. Pechorin vanished when the final blow landed, leaving him wincing and defenseless.

They dragged him onto his feet, clutching his arms tightly to keep him from struggling. His legs dangled limply as they carried him to Shadow Kamoshida. Face-to-face with the tyrant coach, his opponent smirked at him.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to pick your battles? You should have turned back the second you considered taking me on.” He jerked his thumb to the back areas of the palace. “Take him to the dungeon. Find out how he knew about this place. When you’re done with him, keep him alive. I want to do the honors of finishing him off.”

Sojiro gave one last, desperate push to get loose. The guards only tightened their grip, pulling him away as Shadow Kamoshida chuckled. The coach ascended the stairs as Sojiro was forced into the castle’s depths. As the lights dimmed and the air began to reek of human misery, he felt the urge to fight leave him. He still didn’t understand what went wrong, but he knew that he was up the creek without a paddle.

He had intended to clear out Kamoshida’s palace and steal his treasure, but his biggest concern now was whether he could escape in one piece.

* * *

At some point along their journey, Sadayo and Mishima were dropped in front of a new figure. Without a heavy hand to choke her, Sadayo took in as many shallow breaths as she could, trying to get air back into her system. Seeing Mishima still out cold, she shook him awake. He barely had time to get his bearings before the man spoke to them.

“More intruders? I thought this castle was supposed to be locked down! How are you peasants slipping so far inside?”

His voice was gruff, masculine, and eerily-familiar. Sadayo found the last man she wanted to see staring her down.

“ _Kamoshida?_ ” she exclaimed.

“Don’t take an attitude with me, you sniveling dog! You should be showing respect to your king!”

Any rational explanations for what happened were rendered moot. Nothing within reason could explain what she was seeing: Suguru Kamoshida, clad in little more than a skimpy swimsuit, lording over her in a luxurious palace guarded by monstrous knights.

Mishima gripped the back of his bruised head. Caught somewhere between awe, horror, and surreal unease, he asked “What the hell, is that really him?”

The more she looked at the coach, the more she realized how off he appeared. A dark aura hovered around his feet, rising every time he talked down to them. His eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow, and if she wasn’t imagining it, they were actually glowing. And that wasn’t even touching on the topic of his clothes – as confident as Kamoshida was, he would never be caught dead in a flamboyant outfit like that.

Kamoshida, or this… _thing_ …that looked like him, crossed his arms behind his back. “Now I recognize you,” he growled. “Peasants have no right to lurk around my castle, especially not a deadbeat teacher and a pathetic excuse for a student-athlete!”

His insults were beginning to grate on Sadayo’s nerves. Never before had he been so brazen with his disrespect for everyone else.

“What are talking about? Tell us what you did to the school!”

“I’ve done nothing. This _is_ Shujin, you stupid broad! This is a place where all who enter grovel before its king: Suguru Kamoshida!”

“You’re insane!” Mishima said. “You can’t actually believe any of the crap you’re saying!”

Kamoshida backhanded him hard enough to throw him onto his side.

“ _Mishima!_ Leave my students alone, you bastard!”

Another distortion blurred her vision. The coach leered over her, taking her face in his dirty hands. Her arms were restrained by the guard behind her, leaving her defenseless against Kamoshida’s advances.

“Like you really care about your students. Didn’t you refuse to help Shiho when she told you about me?”

“I…I didn’t…”

“That’s right, you _didn’t_. You didn’t lift a finger to help a troubled student, and now she’s in the emergency room. Do you just pick and choose which students you care about?”

His accusations cut her to the core. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny what he claimed. Even if Suzui’s problems were his fault, she had a hand in deepening her despair.

“Don’t…listen to him…” Mishima groaned.

One of the knights drove another kick into his side. Mishima gasped and coughed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over again.

“You know, I don’t like to take on girls that are past their expiration date. Normally, you’d be too old for me, but I might make an exception today.”

“…Too old? _Too old?_ I’m not even _thirty_ , you sick freak!”

Her cries fell on indifferent ears. Apparently through with talking to them, Kamoshida had his men hoist them onto their feet. Though he began to address his men, he never took his eyes off of Sadayo. His hungry gaze filled her with an unshakeable fear. She wondered if it was the same feeling Suzui experienced when the coach had cornered her.

“One of you, take the punk to the dungeon and execute him. The other will bring her upstairs to my quarters. I’m thinking she’ll give me some entertainment for the next couple hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect a proper explanation for Sojiro's predicament next chapter, along with some tense confrontations in Kamoshida's palace. It will be a wild ride, I can promise you that.


	7. In The Face Of Evil

Once again, the shadows had captured Sojiro during a palace infiltration. Unfortunately, he hadn’t planned to be taken prisoner this time around.

For the past hour, he had been locked away in a damp, cold cell by his lonesome. No other captives, cognitive or otherwise, accompanied him in the dungeon. There weren’t even any guards patrolling the area. It was downright insulting to be seen as such an insignificant threat.

Although, considering how poorly his first strike went, he could understand why they thought so little of his abilities.

No hope of rescue burned within his thoughts. He had little with which to bribe his captors, and even if he tried, he didn’t expect them to take him up on any offer. Shadows weren’t all cut from the same cloth, but almost all of them were followers, not leaders. If Shadow Kamoshida ordered his men to dance, they would cut a jig on the spot. The only way they would cooperate was if Sojiro made himself seem like a greater threat.

If he was to escape, he needed to figure out what went wrong first. Sitting down on one end of the cramped cell, Sojiro summoned his persona. If anyone had the answers he needed, it was Pechorin.

With a chiding “tsk-tsk,” the well-dressed demon manifested by the opposite wall. Much like a scolding mother, it wagged one of its talons disapprovingly at Sojiro.

_See where ignoring me has left us?_ Pechorin said.

“I’ll apologize when we’re not on death row. What happened back there? Why couldn’t we fight at our full strength?”

_That was our full strength, I’m afraid._

“Is it because of the palace? Is it limiting what we can do?”

_If only that was the case_.

Crossing its arms, Pechorin went into further detail. _The power we possessed came from months of combat and infiltration. Every time you traversed the cognitive world, we both became stronger. However, that power diminishes when it is left dormant for too long._

“So, it’s like a muscle, then?” Sojiro thought he was catching on. “Regular use keeps it strong, but not doing anything makes it waste away?”

_A fair comparison, I would say. Two years of idleness add up, regardless of which world you inhabit._

It wasn’t the answer he had hoped for, but it explained too much about the problem at hand. Sojiro leaned back against the chilly walls of his cell, taking in this new development. He couldn’t just storm through Kamoshida’s castle now. Hell, he was lucky to have survived that last encounter in one piece. His overconfidence had almost been the death of him.

“We haven’t lost everything, have we?”

_Not necessarily. I can feel my abilities from the awakening lingering around._

Back at square one. It was hardly a fate worse than death, but Sojiro couldn’t help but feel some regret about it. Wakaba had helped him reach that peak, and he had squandered all of the strength they had secured together.

Stretching his arms out, he rose and faced the iron bars of his cell. Obviously, this wasn’t going to be a job he could finish in a couple days. His sole priority for now was breaking out of prison and returning home. He could hash together a new plan when he was cradling a coffee mug in Leblanc, not shivering in the stockades of a palace.

Sojiro cupped his hands over his mouth. “Help, help!” he shouted. “The phantom thief has gotten loose!”

The panicked gasps and frantic footfalls of a guard followed. Sojiro took two steps back to the opposite end of his cell. He would need as much room as possible to safely pull this off.

One of Kamoshida’s knights stopped short of his cell. “What’s the meaning of this?” it barked, lurching back and forth at the other empty cells. “Are you playing some sort of joke?”

Sojiro smirked under his mask. “Something like that, yeah.”

He ducked as Pechorin lashed out at the cell door, its hinges snapping loose and hurtling outward at lethal speeds. The shadow only had time to gasp before it was struck head-on, carried roughly into the wall by the improvised projectile. The door shattered on impact, showering the guard with twisted iron bars.

The stunned shadow’s helmet was pulled loose. Its form morphed into a purple human-like figure with a gaping plant growing from its skull.

“Agi,” Sojiro said, and his persona destroyed the Mandrake in a fiery blaze.

One obstacle down, many more to go. It was a small victory, but boy did it feel satisfying. After a day of bad news and failures, he needed one concrete accomplishment to reflect on.

Walking out of the cell block, Sojiro gave some thought to the situation. However he felt about his current limits, he refused to let them sway his goal. He wasn’t up to par with his own expectations? Fine. He could rebuild his power the old-fashioned way: by rolling over this palace and its protectors until their ruler was at his mercy.

His resolve renewed, Sojiro began pushing through the depths of the dungeon. He hoped that the shadows guarding it would try to stop him – he was in a fighting mood.

* * *

Bound, gagged, and carted along against her will, Sadayo was locked in a state of unbridled terror. Kamoshida, or this monstrous thing that shared his appearance, had taken extra precautions while dragging her to his chambers. More of those knights helped to push her along, prodding her with dull spears whenever she would slack off. Any protests or cries for help were muffled by the rag forced into her mouth. Bruises were forming along her wrists, where the rope that bound them nearly cut off circulation to her hands.

It was like something out of a horror movie, where the damsel in distress gets taken away for a gruesome off-screen death. Her heart pounded against her chest, ready to burst loose if this crisis escalated any further. With every step up the castle, she skirted closer to a full-blown panic.

It was almost like some kind of ironic punishment. Perhaps, since she left Suzui to Kamoshida’s devices, Sadayo was being subjected to a hellish version of that same fate. Some small part of her felt that she deserved it.

They stopped at the foot of double doors. Decked out with golden handles and cushion-like covers, it looked like a fixture in one of those love hotels. She could only squirm futilely as they pushed her through them.

Kamoshida’s quarters were even worse than she had envisioned them. It kept the “tiles and red rugs” aesthetic from the halls outside, but with one horrifying addition: a king-sized bed at the center of the room, complete with translucent curtains for perceived privacy. No amount of denial prevented her from recognizing why she had been brought here.

Without a word of warning, the guards cut through her binds and pulled the rag from her mouth. They didn’t try to stop her from running away; the doors back into the castle were blocked off, and there were no visible exits she could take. In a fit of desperation, she threw open the balcony doors and retreated to its edge. She didn’t expect to escape that way – the drop was several stories high, and there were no handholds for climbing – but she had to delay her fate as long as she could. The dark laughter of Kamoshida’s knights echoed through the doors as they dragged her back inside, throwing her to their master like a sacrificial offering.

Kamoshida slipped a hand through her hair, twirling a curl between his fingers. Every fiber of her being wanted to strike him, but she knew it would only make her suffering worse.

“Mmm, will you look at that,” he moaned, as if he was sizing up a meaty steak. “You know, your face has always been a turn-off for me, but I like what you’ve done with the locks.”

“Please stop,” she sobbed. “Let me go, please…”

“Let go of a prize like you?” He tugged hard on that strand of hair, pulling their faces closer together. “Why should I? I used to think that the ‘older women are more experienced’ saying was pure bullshit. Maybe you can prove it wrong for me!”

She couldn’t fight her tears any longer. “I don’t want this…”

His ravenous yellow eyes continued to beat down her spirit. “Every girl says that at some point, but they all come around eventually.”

She wanted to say “this isn’t you,” but that was a bald-faced lie. As sick as it was, he was acting exactly how Suzui and the others described him. All he was doing differently was being more direct.

“Please…let me go…” she repeated.

“For what reason? I got needs, just like everyone else. I’ve been feeling down since that Takamaki girl wouldn’t put out for me. Not even Shiho could fill that void. Maybe you’ll be a better replacement!”

Sadayo’s heart nearly sank into her stomach. It was one thing to hear about his crimes from others, but to have him openly brag about them to her face? A faint spark of anger flickered within her, driving her to stare down his wild eyes.

“They…know better…than to deal with garbage like you.”

“What? Garbage?” Kamoshida’s brow wrinkled. “Compared to whores like them, I’m a goddamn saint! In fact, why should I settle for them? When I’m done with you, I’ll set my sights on greener pastures! That Okumura girl is perky enough, and as flat as that Sakura one is, she looks like she’d be eager enough to do anything I say!”

His callous remarks were starting to hit her harder than any anticipated punishment.

“Haven’t you hurt enough people? Haven’t you ruined enough lives?” Sadayo began to shake. “Stop treating my students like they’re your slaves!”

“That’s just the law of the land, sweetheart! The strong do what they want, and the weak act as their servants, their footstools! It’s not my fault I’m better than all of you! If you were in my shoes, you would do the same thing!”

The megalomania of Kamoshida, the horror of his crimes – it was all too much for her to stand for. Outrage shot through her veins like adrenaline. Ignoring the consequences, she shoved Kamoshida away. Fists clenched, feet planted firmly on the tile, she faced the monstrous coach and let her wrath loose.

“No one would do this if they were in your place! Want to know why? It’s because you’re an evil, irredeemable bastard who doesn’t know right from wrong! You think you can push people around because they’re weaker than you! And you don’t even have the decency to feel _shame_ for what you’re doing! You’re so depraved that you think you’re helping your victims!”

Swords were pulled from their hilts as the guards moved to encircle her. Kamoshida snarled at her defiance, but she stood her ground. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms as she continued.

“It’s too late for you to help anyone, but I can still make a difference! Want to know how? I’ll do everything in my power to deprive you of your twisted pleasures! I’ll protect your victims to my last, dying breath!”

She was at her boiling point, ready to explode into a blaze of righteous fury. Sheer spite drove her to condemn him one last time.

“ _I won’t let you hurt any more of my students! I’ll die before you lay another finger on them!_ ”

The next voice she expected was Kamoshida’s, probably carrying more insults or an order to execute her on the spot. Instead, the words she heard came from within.

_How long I’ve waited to hear those words! You’ve proven yourself ready to receive me. Our contract can form at last._

Blinding, searing pain shot throughout her temples. Her knees buckled as she gripped her head, crying out as the sensation worsened.

_Living as a stepping stone for others is no way to live. To see such cruelty enacted in front of you, and to lack the power to prevent it…it is more than infuriating. It is unforgiveable._

The voice was female, unfamiliar, and very rough. Its words were jagged, spat out with the contempt of a woman who had survived the depths of despair. The speaker’s Scottish accent only added to the harshness of its declaration.

_You must accept that there are people who are beyond redemption! If they see fit to suppress your sense of justice, then you must act against them, even at your own peril!_

It was as if her face was ready to combust. Sadayo screamed louder, desperate to be relieved of this agony. She would do _anything_ to make it stop.

_Yes, you know this all too well! There is no forgiveness in this world, only vengeance! If not for your sake, then for the sakes of all that this monster has tormented!_

A heavy sensation came over her. Her breathing had become muffled, and her vision had darkened. Fingers grasped at the foreign object over her head. Tearing away at the obstruction only heightened the pain. Fueled by pure anger and adrenaline, she began ripping it free.

Her mouth tasted of copper, and her fingers were stained red. She was literally tearing off her own face with this mask, yet this knowledge didn’t halt her actions.

_Give into your anger! Let your vengeance consume all who oppose you!_

With one final cry, Sadayo wrenched off the mask, and the world became clear.

Ethereal energy surged throughout and around her, smashing furniture and sending bodies flying in a maelstrom of wind. Every step she took shook the foundations of the castle; if she wanted to, she could probably collapse the damned building on her own. No longer did she feel powerless. Her unbearable pain had vanished. In its place was a smoldering fire of tranquil fury.

By her side appeared a statuesque apparition of a woman. Moving on all fours, it leaned back and screeched at Kamoshida and his knights. Its head was obscured by a worn-out gas mask, sporting six eye holes and a number of tubes that excitedly retracted and expanded. Clad in a loose jumpsuit adorned with an untold number of dials, knobs, and armored plates, it looked like a piece from a steampunk art gallery.

“I understand now. I can’t afford to duck my head and hide when trouble arrives. Before, I couldn’t make a difference on my own. But now…I’d say the odds have been evened.” Clenching her gloved fist, she met the gaze of her persona. “ _Right, Tess?_ ”

Kamoshida and his men had been scattered around the room, thrown around like ragdolls by her awakening. Still dazed by the raw power before him, the coach gawked at his intended victim standing up for herself.

“You’re…you’re one of _them?_ This can’t be happening!”

Seeing Kamoshida cower filled her with cathartic glee. “Oh, it is! How does it feel to be the powerless one for a change? I’m going to rip away everything you hold dear!”

Another set of knights pushed through the double doors, bringing the count of Kamoshida’s guards to five. Stumbling back, the coach wheezed out a hasty, “Don’t let her get out!” before fleeing the room.

They formed a circle around her. Sadayo braced herself for their swords and spears, but instead of launching an attack, they convulsed and melted away. Dissolving into dark puddles, they re-emerged as inhuman beasts – floating magicians with pumpkins for heads, and blue demons taking shelter within jars marked with pentagrams.

They unleashed bursts of fire and lightning to destroy her. With reflexes far faster than anything she boasted prior, she dodged around their attacks, leaping off walls and skirting past blasts as they torched the room.

_Call upon my power,_ Tess commanded her. _Destroy them in one fell swoop!_

Without any thought, the right words came to her. “Garu!” she cried.

Like a blade, a bright-green torrent of wind sliced through her foes. Those who were not immediately destroyed lay stunned, unable to fight back as she charged another attack.

Tess rammed the two survivors with a bone-crunching bash, crushing them into a blast mist that quickly faded away. Her persona’s power goading her on, Sadayo summoned another slash of wind to strike the room. The supports for Kamoshida’s bed buckled, and the hideous structure collapsed in on itself.

As satisfying as it was to destroy his guards and belongings, Sadayo wouldn’t be content until Kamoshida was on his knees begging for mercy. She threw open the doors to his room and scanned the stairway, trying to discern where the coward had fled to.

_We need to retreat for now. This approach may be entertaining, but it isn’t sustainable._

“What happened to getting our revenge?”

_In another time, we will have the chance to punish him harshly, but not today. This is your first time handling my power, and it takes a toll on the inexperienced. You’re on the verge of burning out – you just don’t realize it yet._

Sadayo took one last look at the next floor of the castle. “I’ll be back for you, Kamoshida,” she promised.

With that solemn vow on her mind, the newly-christened persona user descended Kamoshida’s castle, ready to destroy any foe that dared stop her.

* * *

The knights threw Mishima onto the cold cobblestones of the castle’s dungeon. Bruised, battered, and distraught, his mind swam with thoughts while his mouth remained closed. Fear had a way of shutting him up when he needed to talk.

“We’ll do it here,” said one of his executors. The one who spoke wore a golden suit of armor, likely to distinguish his higher rank.

He and the two guards accompanying him drew their swords. Mishima weakly pushed himself back onto his feet as they approached him. Their weapons were held defensively, as if they expected him to put up a fight.

As if a pathetic coward like him could put up a fight.

“You don’t have to do this!” he begged them. “Just let me go! I won’t tell anyone what I saw here, I swear!”

“No can do. The king’s orders are that you need to die.” He raised his sword over his head. “Don’t struggle, and this will be a painless affair.”

This was it, then. This was his karmic retribution for failing Ren and Shiho: a clean death at the hands of Kamoshida’s lackeys. His biggest regret was not being able to apologize for his failures. He would have loved to pretend he was fearless, that he wasn’t afraid to die, but he was very much afraid. His few friends would be dearly missed, his promises would be left unfulfilled, and his aspirations would be dashed well before he could pursue them. Above all, he felt anger that Kamoshida would go unpunished for his crimes. If he was a little smarter or a little stronger, he could have gotten the last laugh against that creep.

All of his speculation would get him nowhere, though. He knew justice wouldn’t be served. He was going to die alone, and Kamoshida would go on to target more students remorselessly.

Mishima closed his eyes, held his breath, and hoped he wouldn’t feel the blade carve through his neck.

_Are you going to abandon your quest at its focal point?_

Sharp, confident, commanding. Those words would never describe him, but they matched the disembodied voice he heard perfectly.

_Will you allow injustice to persevere and harm the righteous?_

The man, or whatever was talking to him, spoke with urgency. Mishima looked at the knights and saw why – the death blow had been reduced to a snail’s pace. The attack may have dragged on, but it was eventually going to reach him.

_Answer me! Will you remain idle while this tyrant reduces boys and girls to his slaves?_

“No!” Mishima cried. “If I could fight back against him, I would! I would tear this castle to pieces if it stopped him from hurting anyone else!” Shaking with fury, he shouted, “ _Just once, I want to be relied on! I want to be a hero and defend the innocent, no matter what dangers I face!_ ”

The voice let loose a breathy chuckle. _That’s the spirit. Let us create a bond that will smite your oppressors._

Pressure flooded his mind, threatening to crush his skull with its sheer force. He gasped at its sharp sting, gripping the sides of his head as it only grew worse.

_You desire to uphold justice wherever you see wrongdoing. For too long, you have lacked the power to do so. That ends today!_

Mishima hunched over, screaming and clutching his skull harder. He couldn’t ignore the pain; it shot past any attempts at disassociation and dragged him back into the world, where he was still doubled over in agony.

_If no one else will stand for a just cause, you must be the one to do so! You must be the shining beacon that all will rally behind! They may doubt you at first, but the people will follow you in time!_

His lungs felt ready to give out. His throat grew hoarse from his escalating screams. If this kept up, he would pass out.

_Fighting injustice is never simple, but it is always necessary! The men who did so before you knew this well. Some went down as heroes, others perished reviled and unloved, but they did so for the good of all!_

A thin band of felt pressed around his eyes. He clawed at it, pulling at loose ends despite it amplifying his pain further.

_You heard the same cry for justice as they did long ago! At last, you can answer it! You’ll sweat, bleed, and risk your life for others every waking day, but you’ll do so knowing you’ll make a difference in the world!_

Skin and muscle were peeled off along with the mask, sending streaks of blood streaming down his face. His shrieking had hit a fever pitch. In spite of this, his thoughts swam back to his last words. As long as the innocent were in danger, he refused to give up.

_Face your fears! Stare down death, loneliness, and regret! Do it, and become the hero you’ve wanted to be!_

Crying out from exertion, Mishima ripped the mask free, and his true self emerged with it.

The knight captain’s sword completed its arc, sparking as it sliced at the distended bricks in the wall. He swung around, finding his target behind him and his squad.

Hunched over, his fists balling up repeatedly, Mishima felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Everything was so… _clear_ now. He looked at his would-be executors and laughed at their misfortune. Fear no longer drove his actions, only contempt for the wicked. They had picked a fight with the wrong boy.

“So, this is what I’ve been capable of all along…” He held out his arms, now covered in a pinstripe suit and black leather gloves. “I know what I have to do. I’m not going to stay in the shadows any longer. Today, I start pushing back against the bullies that prey on the weak!” He jabbed a finger at the knights, crying, “Starting with you!”

Recoiling at the declaration, the knight captain dropped his sword. “Dammit, is he another one of those _things?_ Kill him! Don’t let him get to King Kamoshida!”

With a collective roar, the three guards morphed, shedding human shapes for colorful, monstrous forms. Two winged fairies rose behind the captain, who had re-emerged as a dark knight riding a demonic red horse. Empowered by the Pixies’ dark magic, he charged at Mishima with a new sword held aloft.

Mishima instinctively ducked when the captain swung his blade, cleaving the air where he had once stood. The knight grunted in frustration as it attacked again and again, always finishing its attack just as his mark moved out of the way. Rearing its front legs, the horse charged at Mishima, its rider completing an overhead slash that sunk into his target’s flesh.

The blade went no further than Mishima’s skin. Stopping the blade between his hands, he held it mere centimeters above his head. A startled gasp escaped the captain. No amount of pressure he exerted could make his sword go lower, even as it dangled close to the trilby covering Mishima’s dark blue hair. Their roles had reversed in the blink of an eye: suddenly, the knight was at the mercy of the interloper he intended to behead.

“My turn.” Mishima threw back his attacker’s sword. “Bernard, time to put them on ice!”

In a flash of neon flames came his persona – an idealized blend of a knight errant and a feudal Ronin. Slung to the side of its heavy, polygonal armor was a sheathed katana. Its face was hidden beneath a horned helmet, the gaps in it revealing nothing but darkness. Skirt-like plates of metal thumped against its armored legs as it walked, yet it moved gracefully underneath the weight of its protective gear.

_You took the words right out of my mouth._

The pale blue metal of his persona’s armor flashed. In an instant, the three creatures were bombarded with lethal shards of ice. The two pixies were destroyed almost immediately, while the captain and his horse collapsed from the blow.

“Bufu!” Mishima cried.

One massive chunk of ice formed around the monster. He clapped his hands, signaling for it to shatter. His last opponent broke apart into thousands of ice crystals, which melted away without a struggle.

Mishima broke into a fit of nervous giggling. Had he really won a fight? Normally, he could do little but submit when he faced Kamoshida, yet he had just taken down three otherworldly creatures by himself. Caught up in the excitement, he pumped his fist in the air and cheered. For once, it felt like he had taken control of his own destiny.

_Save the celebrations for later,_ Bernard reminded him. _We’re still in danger._

“Oh, right,” he chided himself. “Good thinking. We gotta find Kawakami-san and get out of here!”

Imbued with newfound powers – and, more importantly, newfound confidence – Mishima ascended through the dungeon, ready to smite evil if it dared rear its ugly head at him.

* * *

Sojiro had gotten as far as the palace’s front entrance without any significant struggles. The arrival of two figures in black, sprinting from opposite ends of the castle, seemed to end that streak. He held his mask firmly, preparing to break out Pechorin if they got any closer.

Taking notice of Sojiro, they mimicked his movements, placing hands on their faces. Within shouting distance of them, he summoned his persona.

A masked, multi-eyed woman on all fours and a bulky armored warrior appeared behind his attackers. Sojiro’s breath hitched in his throat. What he was seeing should be impossible. As far as he knew, no one else had ventured into the Metaverse, and shadows didn’t have the same potential to awaken as humans. In spite of these facts, he couldn’t deny what he saw: two personas belonging to these unknown entities.

Even Pechorin was amazed at the turn of events. _I’m not alone?_ it whispered, sounding more like an awestruck child than an ancient demon.

The figures reacted similarly, no longer tensing up or preparing any attacks. He could tell that they weren’t shadows; in fact, they both wore outfits eerily reminiscent of his own phantom thief outfit. The teenage boy sported a domino mask and a suit straight out of a 1920s gangster movie, right down to the loose tie and notched trilby. Meanwhile, the woman’s clothing would’ve been fashionable in a sci-fi dystopia. A dark overcoat concealed her build, while her face was hidden behind a futuristic gas mask with two filters.

“None of you move,” she ordered them. “I want to see your hands.”

Startled, the boy took a step back. “ _Kawakami-san?_ ” he cried.

Wait, Kawakami? Didn’t Ren’s homeroom teacher have that same name?

“ _Mishima?_ ” she said back, ignoring the distortions that accompanied their names. “Is that really you?”

He lowered his mask, revealing his delicate and bruised features. “What happened to you?”

“Same thing as you, I’d imagine.”

She pulled her gas mask down to her neck. A good look at her confirmed Sojiro’s suspicions: the Kawakami confronting him now was the same one teaching at Ren and Futaba’s school. Now that he thought about it, Futaba had mentioned someone with a name like Mishima’s. Did they both have ties to Shujin Academy?

“Well, that explains who you are. Who’s our mystery guest, then?”

Sojiro joined the others in unmasking himself. It did no good for Mishima, who only knew of him through whatever comments Ren and Futaba made about him. Kawakami, on the other hand, picked up on his identity quickly.

“No way,” she muttered. “Sakura-san? You ended up here, too?”

“Wait, ‘Sakura-san?’ Like, Futaba’s dad?”

A dozen questions ran through his head. How did they enter the Metaverse when he had the only Nav app left? Had they stumbled across Wakaba’s notes, or somehow obtained one of her phones before they all got confiscated? If they were out of the loop on her research, then how had they entered the cognitive world in the first place? All of his inquiries could be saved for later. Right now, he had a bigger problem to deal with: getting home before Shadow Kamoshida’s men rallied and attempted a counterattack.

“I’ll explain everything when we’ve gotten back to Shibuya, but we have to leave before-”

“-You can get us home?” Mishima asked. “How?”

“Look, I told you I would explain everything later. I just need you two to trust me!”

Kawakami nodded. “Get us out of here, and I won’t doubt a single word you say.”

The castle grounds were only a short distance away. As long as they cleared the moat and got outside, they could be pulled out of the cognitive world by the Nav.

Before they could make a move, a dark mass burst through the floor, cutting off their only path home. It took flight and reformed into a humanoid shape, taking on the appearance of an imposing archangel with hellish wings.

So much for a quiet escape…

“Your assault on this hallowed ground ends here,” he declared. “Struggle all you wish, but you will ultimately die by my hands.”

Mishima was the first to step up to the shadow’s challenge. His persona appeared beside him, and he cried, “We’ll see about that!”

Kawakami and Sojiro followed suit, summoning their other selves to assist them. He looked his two unexpected allies and realized that, for the first time, he wouldn’t have to rely solely on himself to survive. Knowing that they had his back, inexperienced as they may be, gave him the strength he needed to face down this new threat.

The Archangel called forth dark energy, lashing out at them with curses. As they dodged around the blasts, it swung its massive sword. Having already launched himself in the air, Sojiro was struck by its attack and knocked down.

Mishima and Kawakami concentrated bursts of wind and ice on the shadow, driving it back against the arches of the castle. They threw everything they could muster at it, not aware of their limits and likely to reach them at any time. Back on his feet, Sojiro targeted the Archangel with Pechorin’s physical attacks.

When their onslaught slackened, the injured shadow drew back and hurled a cluster of needle-like projectiles at them. Too distracted to react in time, Mishima suppressed a cry of pain when it dug into his arm. He glared at his attacker, then his eyes fluttered. His eyelids were becoming heavier and heavier…

“Hey, kid!” Sojiro cried. “Now’s not the time to take a nap!”

Guided by her persona, Kawakami summoned a healing aura around Mishima. With a rough convulsion, he threw off the sleeping fit and snapped awake.

“Everyone, on me!” she said, charging her next attack. “Let’s bring him down!”

Hurled at devastating speeds by her persona, the slash of wind proved too much for the Archangel to shrug off. The castle’s arches cracked against its weight as it slammed into them. Mishima and Sojiro followed up, peppering it with ice and fire until its wings gave out.

Barely keeping itself upright with its sword, the shadow gave them one last hateful stare. “You’ll never defeat my king,” it spat. “He will grind you back into dust!”

Kawakami blew off his threat. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, just like you did.”

Their personas converged on the Archangel, striking with simultaneous attacks that obliterated it.

It took a few moments of silence for their victory to sink in. Though tired and injured, the three hooped and hollered at what they had accomplished. Even the castle’s most fearsome defenders were falling before them. It seemed like they were unstoppable.

Fittingly, it was at that point that their fatigue finally kicked in. Kawakami and Mishima suddenly lurched over, overwhelmed by the exhaustion brought on by their awakenings. They wouldn’t be winning many more confrontations if they stuck around.

“So, uh, about that escape?” Mishima wheezed.

Offering his shoulders to them, Sojiro carried the two out of the castle. Stepping off the drawbridge, he pulled out his phone and jammed on the Nav’s button. His screen lit up with a message that instantly eased his worries.

“Now returning to the real world from Kamoshida’s Palace. Thank you for your hard work.”

* * *

Back to his old self, surrounded by the sterile cityscape of Shibuya, Sojiro was tempted to finally take a load off. His day wasn’t over yet, though, even if the afternoon had turned to twilight. Mishima and Kawakami were in his company, panting and resting against Shujin’s fences. They had been through a brutal experience, just like he had. It was only fair that he gave them some much-needed answers.

“Can I make you all some coffee?”

Still trying to catch his breath, Mishima wordlessly stuck his thumb up. Not wanting them to strain themselves any further, Sojiro brought the car around to carry them to Leblanc.

He got the feeling that this day would only get stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting to work on this chapter for some time now. The awakening scenes were some of my favorite moments in Persona 5, and I hope I captured at least a fraction of their spectacle. Doing them justice was my main goal.
> 
> I'm not sure if it's ever addressed in previous games whether a persona user's power can deteriorate or not. If that isn't the case, let me know and I'll correct it.
> 
> Like Sojiro, the personas of Mishima and Kawakami are based on characters in classic literature. 
> 
> Tess is inspired by Tess Durbeyfield, the titular protagonist of "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy. She spends much of her story suffering terrible tragedies and growing distant from the ones she loves. Misfortune after misfortune piles up on Tess, until she violently lashes out at the people who wronged her. It's a grim book with a bleak ending, but it's a fascinating look at the attitudes towards women and "purity" at the time it was written.
> 
> Bernard is based loosely on Bernard Marx, the protagonist for the first half of Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World." Bernard has a lot in common with Mishima - he's unpopular, associates with a couple of friends who unintentionally overshadow him, and desires to stand up for himself. He actually does become more bold and outspoken as the story goes on, but his actions take a backseat to a more prominent protagonist's journey in the second half of the book. Looking back at it, I immediately thought of Mishima when following Bernard's arc.
> 
> Mishima's phantom thief outfit comes from a piece of official concept art. Apparently, Atlus considered making him a party member at one point, but the idea was scrapped before it got too far. Kawakami's was more of an original design, loosely inspired by the neo-noir fashion of the Blade Runner movies.
> 
> The next couple chapters are going to be slower-paced and focused on the growing partnership between Sojiro, Mishima, and Kawakami.


	8. Let's Go Shopping

Unwinding with a cup of coffee wasn’t a habit of Yuuki’s, but without something hot and strong to sip on, digesting that day’s insanity would be a real challenge. He considered himself a straight-laced student, one who dutifully avoided trouble and played it smart. Yet, in the span of an afternoon, he had watched a friend nearly die, wandered into a dangerous area, gotten into two fights, and accepted a ride and a drink from a stranger.

Maybe the kick of caffeine would inspire a believable excuse he could give his parents. They would never believe the truth, so it would be necessary to craft a lie that also maintained his reputation.

Kawakami fussed about “personal responsibilities” on the way over, but ultimately joined them at Café Leblanc. The coffee shop had closed earlier in the day, likely so Sojiro could join them in…whatever that castle place was. Other than the free drinks, he had promised them an explanation on what really happened that day. Yuuki could tell it was going to be a tough pill to swallow.

“So, where do you want me to start?” Sojiro set aside a cleaned mug and started scrubbing another one. “I only know so much about the cognitive world, so don’t expect answers for every question you got.”

The cognitive world. It wasn’t much to go on, but least Yuuki could put a name to the place.

Nursing her own cup, Kawakami said, “Start with today. What _happened_ to us? All this business about…personas and palaces. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there.”

“Alright. You were both inside Kamoshida’s mind.”

Kawakami gagged. “We were inside _what?_ ”

“Not literally! You two ended up in his perception of Shujin Academy. He’s become so twisted that he sees the school as his kingdom. That distorted desire took shape and became a palace.”

“So none of that was real?” Yuuki asked. “That castle and all those monsters were just in his head? What about the personas?”

“It’s complicated. Kamoshida’s castle is just a small part of the cognitive world. If you’re wondering what that is, your guess is as good as mine. All Wak-” he stopped himself short. “All I know is that it takes the unconscious desires of people and gives them form. For the really screwed-up ones, they turn into these enormous palaces guarded by shadows.”

“But the personas aren’t bad, are they? They’re our other selves, or something like that.”

“Right. They’re the side of you that demands justice and wants you to stand up for yourself. They can manifest in the cognitive world and help you fight.”

It was plenty to understand, and Yuuki suspected that they had only scratched the surface. There was still so much that demanded explanations. Would their actions in the cognitive world affect reality? What exactly were those creatures, those “shadows,” that they fought against? Most of all, would he ever be able to burn away his memory of Kamoshida in a speedo?

Downing the last drops in his mug, he rested it on the counter. “You used an app to get us home, didn’t you?” He pulled out his phone and swiped to the last page. “Is it the same as this one?”

Taking the phone for a closer look, Sojiro’s hands shook. “How did you get this?”

“That’s the weirdest part! It just _appeared_. Yesterday I didn’t have it, and today I did. I didn’t download it, and no one I know admitted to putting it on there. I couldn’t find anything about it online, either!”

Sojiro placed his phone and Yuuki’s side-by-side. Like he had thought, the apps they used were identical. Instead of answering his question, it only baffled him further.

Retrieving her own phone, Kawakami booted it up and began swiping across its screen. “This is all news to me. I’ve never seen that before, or…”

She trailed off, transfixed with shock at her phone. Yuuki and Sojiro poked their heads over to catch a glimpse. At the bottom right-hand corner of the screen was the Nav app, with the same all-seeing eye and label as theirs.

“How the hell did this get on my phone? I checked my phone minutes before Mishima showed up, and this wasn’t there!”

Sojiro nervously rubbed the back of his head. “Geez, that’s a first. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the Nav loads itself onto your phone after an awakening? Then again, that wouldn’t explain how Mishima got it first…”

“So you didn’t make the app, then?”

“I wish I was smart enough to have made it,” he chuckled.

Topping off their mugs, Sojiro rested back against the counter. For someone who claimed to have the answers they needed, he seemed to be in the dark about a lot. There was so much to wrap his head around! A world where thoughts take shape and monsters lurk around every corner? Apps that transplant you from one plane of existence to the next? It all defied common sense, yet Yuuki had experienced it all personally.

Now that he thought about it, maybe it was for the best that some details were left out. Having to absorb any more reality-warping news today would probably break him.

“You never told us why you were in there,” Kawakami commented.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, you didn’t hop in there just to save us, did you? If you came from the entrance, I could believe it, but you were running up from the basement. What were you trying to do before you met us?”

“I was…alright, no other way to put it. I was trying to steal Kamoshida’s heart.”

Images of Sojiro and Kamoshida exchanging love letters and going on late-night trysts flashed through Yuuki’s mind. He shuddered at the thought.

“Explain what that means,” he cautiously said.

“Remember what I said about distorted desires? Those palaces aren’t just for show. They protect the twisted hearts of people like Kamoshida. If you steal the heart of a palace ruler, then you take away their distorted desires, forcing them to face what they’ve done.”

“You could make Kamoshida give up his power tripping?” Kawakami asked. “If you took away his distorted desires, it would stop him from abusing his students?”

The power to change a heart, to reshape a ruthless criminal into a repentant person. Yuuki was frightened at the implications of it. Wasn’t it the same as brainwashing someone? If it could reform bad people, couldn’t it also corrupt good people?

Despite his inner protests, he couldn’t help but dwell on its potential uses. Kamoshida was past the point of talking sense into. Whatever shame he once possessed had been eradicated and replaced with grim determination long ago. If his reign as Shujin Academy’s tyrant was to end, it could only be done forcibly. Stealing his heart wouldn’t just stop him from hurting anyone else, it would vindicate anyone who got punished for opposing him.

Bernard’s words of encouragement rang in his ears. If no one would stand for justice, he would have to be the first to rise up. He couldn’t hope to overthrow Kamoshida in the real world, but in the cognitive world he had a fighting chance.

Yuuki jumped up from his seat. “If you’re going to steal Kamoshida’s heart, then I’m joining you!”

“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about-”

“Count me in,” Kawakami added. “I’m not letting that creep run Shujin any longer.”

“Just because we worked together once doesn’t mean we’re teaming up again! You have no idea how dangerous the palaces are! Every time you enter one, you put your life at risk!”

“If it’s that dangerous,” Yuuki argued, “then why did you go it alone today?”

“That’s different! I thought it was much less of a threat than it turned out to be. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have rushed in without a plan!”

Yuuki wouldn’t let his objections get in the way. “If it’s that much of a problem, then you should let us help you! It’s always safer to travel in groups!”

Resting his face in his hands, Sojiro let out an exasperated groan. “It’s not that easy. The last time I worked with a team, I lost someone that meant a lot to me. This whole phantom thief work is best handled alone.”

Phantom thief? More confusing buzzwords continued to emerge from the woodwork. Maybe it had something to do with their strange outfits in the cognitive world. When you take on the appearance of a Prohibition-era gangster, your teacher looks like some cyberpunk outlaw, and your friend’s father sports a bank robber’s gear, you eventually realize there’s a pattern going on.

Kawakami rose from her seat. “If you don’t want help, fine. Mishima and I can just steal his heart on our own.”

“No! You don’t get it, there’s all these nuances to it! You don’t just sneak in and swipe a beating heart off a pedestal! You’ll get killed if you blindly rush back in there!”

“Then help us!” Yuuki insisted. “I know you have that same cry for justice in you! If you teach us the ropes, we can help you bring down Kamoshida! Ren won’t get expelled, and Futaba won’t have to worry about becoming his next target!”

With the mention of Futaba, Sojiro’s expression darkened. Polishing a glass harder than needed, he silently weighed their offer. In all likelihood, he knew of Kamoshida’s exploitation of Shujin’s girls. Why else would he have tried to steal his heart? Like any decent father, he was trying to protect his children.

“Fine. We’ll work together to steal Kamoshida’s heart. But,” he interjected before Yuuki could cheer, “we’re not going back to the cognitive world immediately. I didn’t prepare for what happened today, and that almost got me killed. First we get our equipment together, then we train, and _then_ we take action against him.”

Kawakami’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. Hunched over, she exchanged some muffled words with the caller, then hung up without another word. When she turned back to face them, her face was downright pale.

“Crap, I’m so late,” she moaned. “Let’s start this tomorrow. My hands are full tonight.”

Laying their phones on the counter, the three traded contact info, plugging new names and numbers into their address books. Above their listings, Yuuki added the heading “Robbery Crew.”

“Seriously? Are you trying to put us on a watch list?” Sojiro groaned. “Try something less conspicuous.”

“Less conspicuous, right. Sorry.” Hastily, he changed the text to “Priority Contacts.”

As soon as they were done exchanging numbers, Yuuki and Kawakami hurried off to the metro. The last train rides were quickly approaching, and missing them meant having to hike through large chunks of the city to get home. He briefly considered asking Sojiro for a ride, but dismissed the idea without much thought. They had already enjoyed his hospitality twice, despite having little to no contact with him until today.

If they were going to work as a team, Yuuki thought, then getting to know each other would be essential. He hoped Ren and Futaba wouldn’t find it weird; after all, he was buddying up with their legal guardian. That would be a real struggle to explain away.

* * *

One commonality between the cognitive world and the real one was how time behaved. When you were excited and doing something you enjoyed, the minutes flew by like seconds. Conversely, when a situation became tense, time appeared to move slower.

Completing practice problems for trigonometry didn’t compare to dodging shadow attacks, but both reduced the clock to a painfully-slow advance.

“Come on, come on…”

Yuuki tapped his eraser against his notebook impatiently. Trig wasn’t his weakest subject, but it was well outside of his comfort zone. He often had to rack his brain for solutions.

Impulsively, he slipped his phone under his desk and pulled up the messaging app. He had some ideas for their next move in the cognitive world, and had been chomping on the bit to bounce them off his new allies.

 **Mishima:** Sakura-san, Kawakami-san, are you there?

 **Mishima:** I was doing some thinking about that equipment problem.

 **Sojiro:** No need to be so formal. Call me boss.

 **Mishima:** Got it, Big Boss.

 **Mishima:** :D

 **Sojiro:** ?

 **Mishima:** Uh, forget I said that.

 **Mishima:** I was gonna ask: what all did you used to bring on the job? I’ve been scouting around for shops we could hit up after school.

 **Sojiro:** Let’s see…

 **Sojiro:** Painkillers for injuries

 **Sojiro:** Model weapons for combat

 **Sojiro:** Protective gear and clothing for armor

 **Sojiro:** Never messed around with anything else. Not sure what all would work in there.

 **Mishima:** I think I know a place we could go. Meet me at the station in a couple of hours.

 **Kawakami:** What the HELL are you doing???

 **Kawakami:** You’re supposed to be in class!!!

 **Kawakami:** Stop texting and get back to work!

Yuuki frantically shut off his phone. He didn’t know if Kawakami was the type to storm into other teachers’ classes, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

With great reluctance, he resumed his battle against the evil forces of his trig worksheet.

* * *

Kawakami and Mishima were waiting for him when he got off the train. They must have come directly from Shujin, considering their early arrival and the presence of Mishima’s uniform. Before he could get a word in edgewise, Mishima launched into a spiel about his search, going over all the little details on how he narrowed down this shop. Kawakami looked none-too-pleased at his ready admission to slacking off in class.

“…And that’s when it hit me: this place checks off all the right boxes! It’s in a central spot, it never gets too crowded, and to top it off, I’m friends with the owner! Well, maybe not ‘friends.’ Acquaintances? I walked in there a couple times, and he told me to buy something or get out.”

Without a name or address for the place, Sojiro and Kawakami were forced to follow his lead. They wandered through the underground shopping mall and traversed the roads of Shibuya, maneuvering around packed crowds and street traffic. Even on a weekday, the city was bustling with business.

Across from a Big Bang Burger was a grungy alley, scarce on activity aside from a bike rack and a couple homes. A lonely store hung around the corner. Its sign and awning were a drab shade of green, and in bold letters its name read “Untouchable.” Camouflaged clothing and military gear were on display on its stands. Its door was marked with warnings against loitering.

“Here we are, just like I promised!” Mishima exclaimed.

This wasn’t the sort of place Sojiro would normally turn to. Being back in the alley made his skin crawl, like he would have to do a double-take every few steps. “Seedy” was the first word that came to mind.

Kawakami stopped short of the entrance. “I don’t know what I expected…”

Oblivious to their concerns, Mishima happily walked inside and coaxed the others into joining him. He didn’t share their worries; in fact, he was in his element finding the place. Maybe he felt like he had to prove his worth to Sojiro.

Frankly, the fact that Mishima had survived the Metaverse was proof enough for him. Anyone who could stumble in there and escape intact deserved respect.

The first thing Sojiro noticed about the shop were the guns. Never in his life had he seen so many collected in one place, not even in the museums Wakaba used to love visiting. Handguns lined the glass display on the counter. Rifles and shotguns adorned the walls. Accessories for all kinds of weapons were boxed up behind the register, waiting to be haphazardly slapped onto a firearm of choice. It was like a treasure trove for mall ninjas.

Gun ownership was highly-restricted, wasn’t it? How on earth did the owner get away with selling them so brazenly?

“Boss? Don’t freak out, okay? They’re just models and airsoft guns.”

Sojiro finally noticed the most crucial detail about the merchandise: the tips of their barrels were all painted orange. Other parts now stood out, like the barrels of BBs stocked on the shelves.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Mishima had really pulled out all the stops finding this place. As far as he knew, any model weapon would function in the cognitive world. There was nothing special about Wakaba’s gun, aside from sentimental value. If it could be perceived as a real gun, it would work like a real gun.

Time to give himself some much-needed firepower.

Kawakami sorted through a stack of old-fashioned wooden rifles. “How are we going to handle this? Do we split the cost together, or are we buying everything separately?”

“I’m kinda broke at the moment, so…” Mishima shrugged, “…maybe I can pay you guys back later?”

Of course there was a catch to this. Reluctantly, Sojiro fished some bills out of his wallet. “Take this. Don’t go blowing it all on something you won’t know how to use! Keep it simple and practical.”

Mishima scurried off to the more “exotic” weapons, poking around at the bows and launchers dangling from the ceiling. Kawakami had taken an interest in the battle rifles, and was closely comparing an American design with a Russian one. Figuring he should stick with what he knew, Sojiro kneeled down by the counter and examined their stock of pistols.

Through the glass, he saw a man push through a closet door, a box of protective goggles bouncing over his hands. The stick of a lollipop jutted from his lips, twitching slightly at their presence.

“’Sup,” he flatly said. “Are you gonna buy something this time?”

Mishima nodded eagerly. “Yep, and I brought company!”

The shopkeeper’s coat swished loosely with his steps, revealing a blood red peace sign stitched onto its lower half. The rest of his clothes had muted colors, and barring his sideburns, his hair was trimmed to a military standard of shortness. A set of noise-cancelling headphones were wrapped around his hat. It was all so strangely fitting, like he was cultivating the image of a grizzled arms dealer.

Stroking the stubble of his chin, he said, “Never seen you two around here. You’re not his folks, are you?”

Red-faced and caught off-guard, Sojiro and Kawakami stammered out one excuse after another.

“What? No!”

“I just met him last week!”

“We barely know each other!”

“He’s, like, twice my age!”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Sojiro pouted.

The shopkeeper held his hands up, as if to placate their embarrassment. “Holy hell, take it easy. Wasn’t trying to imply anything. He just looks like you, that’s all.”

Still blushing, Kawakami hid her head as she narrowed down her choices. Mishima had a lengthy box balanced between his hands. His eyes darted between the stands and the weapon he had already picked out.

“Mind if I ask what this is all about?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you won’t be using these to pull a prank, right? I don’t want any trouble with the law.”

Sojiro weakly grasped for an answer. Of all the details to forget, why hadn’t he thought up an excuse for coming? This wasn’t a time or place for the truth.

“We’re…we’re part of an airsoft team!” Kawakami exclaimed. “Yeah, we’re recruiting hard right now and stocking up! We got a match in a month and want to prepare!”

Whether it was her enthusiasm or his indifference, the shopkeeper seemed to buy it. “Whatever. It’s your money, not mine.”

Returning from his search, Mishima triumphantly planted his new weapon of choice on the counter. "See, Iwai?” he cheerfully said. “I told you I’d buy something eventually!”

Sojiro looked over the box. “Are you kidding me? A _crossbow?_ ”

“It’s the ultimate weapon!” he protested. “Accurate, but silent! Not to mention, I could reuse the bolts!”

“Do you know how to use one?”

Mishima hesitated. “I’ll figure it out, I guess.”

If his experience with Futaba was any indication, there was no point in arguing. Mishima had already made his mind up, and no amount of nudging would convince him to pick a practical weapon. At least he would have time to practice with it.

Kawakami went with something more rugged: an American battle rifle from World War 2. Most of its wooden frame was probably brown plastic, and more than a few of its parts looked flimsy, but that hardly mattered. Once it entered the cognitive world, it would be belching out bullets like the real thing.

That left him as the only undecided person. Spying a familiar sight in the pistol case, he motioned for Iwai to open it up. His hands slipped around the handgun’s plastic grip. Though its suppressor was poorly tacked-on and its proportions were wrong, he almost immediately recognized it.

“The Walther PPk, the go-to for taxi drivers and British spies. I’ll take it.”

Iwai let out a soft chuckle. “Sounds like someone’s a man of taste.”

Several of his dates with Wakaba involved classic films. Curled up together on the couch, they would sit through hours of cinema while she dissected the poorer-constructed parts. Though she usually preferred science fiction, his love of thrillers and action movies rubbed off on her. Even now, he could remember Wakaba gnawing on her fingernails while Sean Connery faced down an approaching laser in _Goldfinger_.

He wouldn’t let her down. Kamoshida would be taken down before he laid a finger on Futaba, and everyone he hurt would be vindicated after his change of heart.

For once, he wouldn’t be doing it alone.


	9. Women We Haven't Met Yet

**Sojiro:** I think I know a guy in Shinjuku who can help us.

 **Sojiro:** Might give us the edge we need.

 **Sojiro:** I also got a lead on those meds.

 **Sojiro:** I’ll keep you all posted.

 **Sojiro:** If you’re heading out today, don’t wait up for me.

Skimming through the last unread messages, Sadayo locked her phone and closed her classroom for the day. Normally, she would be heading home and crashing for a couple hours, only to head out to her second job not long after. She had new responsibilities, though, and they devoured more of her scarce free time. This afternoon would be one of those moments: alongside Mishima, she was supposed to scour the Red Light District for a contact that could tip the scales in their favor. Who they were looking for was a big “what-if.” Sojiro had kept the details vague in his texts.

Given the choice, she would rather re-caffeinate at home than go on a wild goose chase in Shinjuku. Who wouldn’t, really? An entire day of teaching students wore her out, even if her class was being attentive and cooperative. The temptation to skip this chore and go home was heavy.

But this wasn’t just about her, was it? People were counting on her now – Suzui, Sojiro, Mishima, even the students that weren’t aware of Kamoshida’s cruelty. To back out now would be nothing short of abandoning them.

With great reluctance, she avoided her usual route home and dragged Mishima with her. He offered weak protests about working on a website, but otherwise gave in without much of a struggle.

The Red Light District always made her skin crawl, even when she was a fresh-faced college grad with too much self-confidence. When she stepped off the train and immersed herself into the crowds, that familiar feeling returned with a vengeance. Goosebumps crept along her back and arms as she guided Mishima past its usual sights – dive bars, love hotels, and intimidating figures hawking suspicious deals in alleys. The commotion of Shinjuku was nothing like Shibuya’s busy atmosphere. You could take younger children to Shibuya without a second thought, but Shinjuku was so seedy that any sane parent would consider it off-limits.

There was only one spot in the district where she felt comfortable: Crossroads, a somewhat-classy bar frequented by the successful and the unlucky alike. She had been there more than a few times, drowning her sorrows under the protective watch of its owner, Lala Escargot. She was a strange sort of bartender, one who didn’t want her customers getting too hammered despite the money it would bring her. Maybe that moderate attitude was what drew Sadayo there – it lacked the air of desperation she found in Tokyo’s other watering holes.

Passing the neon-lit entrance for the bar, Sadayo and Mishima wandered the streets of Shinjuku, eyeing any shops that might assist them in Kamoshida’s palace. Unfortunately, given how vague that notion was, they were generally at a loss for where to go. Since she had only been to the cognitive world once, she wasn’t an expert on what all would help them in it. Would their good fortune be found in a budget electronics store? Or maybe they needed to speak to someone directly, like the shady man selling idol posters across the street?

“Kawakami-san, I’m officially lost,” Mishima admitted.

“You and me both. Who are we supposed to be _looking_ for?”

“Do you think we’re reading it wrong?”

She had only taken a few brief glances at the texts between classes. It wasn’t impossible for her to have misinterpreted Sojiro’s task.

“I guess…” Sadayo conceded. “Let’s grab a bench and look it over together.”

Finding somewhere to sit wasn’t easy on a busy Wednesday afternoon, but their search eventually paid off. Brushing off the old newspaper pages on their side, they took a corner of a bus stop’s bench and scrolled back through Sadayo’s inbox. Three unread message alerts flashed.

“They’re from him,” she muttered, scrolling past old texts to read them.

 **Sojiro:** Actually scratch that Shinjuku idea. Outdated info.

 **Sojiro:** A guy I knew used to make lockpicks and smoke bombs over there.

 **Sojiro:** I think he’s serving a nickel for counterfeiting.

Mishima groaned loudly. “So, we did all this for nothing?”

Sadayo’s fingers flittered on her screen, furiously typing out a reply befitting of her rage.

 **Kawakami:** We’re already out here!

 **Kawakami:** Did we just waste our time?!?

 **Sojiro:** Sorry…

 **Sojiro:** All that stuff’s essential. If we can’t buy it, we’ll have to make it ourselves.

 **Sojiro:** Hold up, I’m getting called in.

 **Sojiro:** Hope this goes better than your search…

She wasn’t getting her hopes up for any more texts soon. His comments confirmed it – they had gone out of their way on a fool’s errand. At the end of her wits, she angrily shoved her phone back into her purse.

“This sucks…” she moaned.

Mishima nervously twiddled his thumbs, staring into the crowd like he expected their poor luck to reverse. His feet tapped the ground in an unsteady rhythm.

Breaking the awkward silence, he hesitantly asked, “If Kamoshida was gonna get me expelled, how long would it take for him to pull it off?”

“He threatened to expel you?” A threat like that was bad enough, but what concerned her was the likelihood of him following through with it. He had plenty of influence with the higher-ups. “There’s a faculty meeting two weeks from now. If he was going to convince Kobayakawa into doing his dirty work, then that would be his best opportunity.”

“Only two weeks? What if we can’t change his heart before then? I’ll be kicked out of Shujin!”

She laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take him down in time, I promise.”

Mishima weakly returned her smile. “Thanks for having my back. So…what now? Should we go home?”

“What else can we do? And, no, I’m not taking you to Crossroads.”

To his credit, Mishima made the effort of appearing offended. “I wasn’t going to…alright, I _might_ have been thinking about it. Can you blame me?”

On her walk back to the train station, Sadayo calculated the time she had before her night shift started. The detour to the Red Light District probably cost her an hour, and coupled with the ride back, it would take at least another half-hour before she finally set foot in her apartment. That wasn’t even considering Mishima and whether he would want someone to walk home with him.

Internally, she seethed at Sojiro’s poor directions. That man would be getting some _very_ harsh words when they crossed paths again…

“Yoo-hoo! You two there! Care to have your fortune told?”

Across the street, a young woman at a foldable table waved to them, eagerly inviting them to take a seat with her. Mishima shrugged at Sadayo, as if to say, “Why not? At least this won’t be a total waste.”

Her little setup was nestled near a busy intersection. There wasn’t much to it: a cheap table, a few folding chairs, and a banner bearing the initials “A.D.P.” Slightly behind her was a well-groomed man in a white suit. A translucent tip jar sat by her feet, and by the looks of it, she had gotten some generous donations already.

The woman smiled warmly at them once they took their seats. Adjusting the headband around her long blonde hair, she stretched her fingers and placed a deck of cards on the table.

“You can call me Chihaya. Is this your first time getting your fortune told?”

Her voice was soft and melodic, though Sadayo heard a hint of scratchiness in it. The way she spoke sounded carefully practiced and rehearsed.

“I’ve never done this before,” Mishima said. “Is there, like, a normal package or something? A regular fortune telling, no palm reading or smoke signals or anything like that?”

“We don’t use smoke signals for divination,” she giggled. “But I can do a standard reading. Could you tell me your names first?”

Sadayo and Mishima followed her instructions. Chihaya paused for a moment, concentrating on their names, then shuffled the deck several times over. Deep in thought, she stared at the cards, her brow crinkling with exertion.

The man behind her continued to watch the two with intent curiosity. Sadayo couldn’t help but flinch under his gaze. On the surface, he looked pretty unremarkable, but his eyes told her a different story. They were wide with a hunger she recognized in Kamoshida’s.

“All right, let’s see what fate has in store for you…”

With great care, Chihaya flipped the first card for them to see. Each one was decorated with ornate illustrations of mythological figures and Roman numerals. Unfortunately, their meanings were a total mystery for Sadayo. She never read much about tarot motifs or arcanas.

“In your immediate future, your poor fortune will reverse. Reconvene with your friend as soon as you can to learn of this windfall.”

Chihaya overturned the second card. “You’re consumed with guilt over something you never did directly. Whoever you think you wronged, take comfort in knowing they forgive you. The next time you can meet this person, do not avoid her. This will give you the closure you need to move on.”

Sadayo and Mishima exchanged uncomfortable glances. She had gone into this expecting to lose her money to some table-rapper, but this had delved into raw territory for her. She had plenty of guilt in her system, and if Mishima’s expression was any sign, he felt the same way. Had their fortune teller given a lucky guess, or was there something greater at play?

“Now, let’s see what comes next…”

Upon revealing the third card, Chihaya’s expression dropped. Her hand raised to her mouth as a frown developed.

“You’re on the path to a battle you cannot win. Death is inevitable if you continue on your journey.” She winced at her own divination. “Kawakami-san…Mishima-san…what’s going on? Are you involved with something illegal?”

“D-do we look like we’re criminals?” Mishima sputtered out.

Chihaya shook her head. “I don’t understand…you seem like good people, but the cards are never wrong. I’ve never seen an outcome this dire before…”

“Is there anything we can do to stop it?”

“If only,” she sighed. “Fate is absolute. It cannot be altered by anyone or anything.”

The suited man gave her a slight nudge. Chihaya’s shoulders jumped as she fished out a bag from her dress.

“What I mean is, fate can’t be altered, but you can weather the worst of its effects with this!” She pulled out a coin-sized rock and held it between her thumb and forefinger. “This is a holy stone, a powerful relic imbued with divine energy. It will grant you good fortune as long as you keep it by your side.”

To Sadayo, it looked like an ordinary pebble you’d find in a park. Even when it was laid on the table, its supposed holy properties weren’t apparent. Maybe that’s how relics worked: you didn’t realize they were special until their magic kicked in.

Unlike her, Mishima was complete on-board with the idea. He turned it over, examining it from every angle he could. “That’s awesome! How much for it!”

Chihaya’s smile faltered. “One hundred thousand yen.”

“ _What?_ Are you serious?” Sadayo incredulously cried.

“It’s a holy relic! The power to improve one’s fortune doesn’t come cheap! It takes time to find the right stones, bless them, see how effective they are-”

Defying all common sense, Mishima licked the stone. He immediately gasped and devolved into a coughing fit. The rock fell onto the table and shattered, scattering dozens of white crystals across its cover.

“What the hell did you do?” the man shouted. “Why on earth would you try that?”

Between coughs, Mishima said, “It’s salt! Gah, it’s a bunch of salt stuck together!”

Caught in a lie, Chihaya froze up. “I…It still works. It doesn’t matter…what it’s made of.” She no longer put in the effort of convincing them. “I…I wasn’t trying to sell you anything you would regret…”

“Dammit, are you _trying_ to drive them away? You should be happy to offer these stones to your clients!”

The fortune teller bowed her head in submission. “I’m sorry, Yuichi! This was out of my control! I’ll do better next time!”

Yuichi gathered up the fragments of the supposed holy stone. “Beat it, both of you,” he barked at them. “If you’re gonna waste my time and break my products, then you shouldn’t bother coming back.”

Glaring at Yuichi, Sadayo pulled Mishima from his chair and headed for the train station. Her thoughts were a jumble. That holy stone was an obvious fraud, but could the same be said for Chihaya? Her insights were too on-the-nose to be mere guesses. Was it possible that she had the power to read into the future? If so, then why was she associating with that suited creep?

“Sorry I screwed that up, Kawakami-san…”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. After all, you did save us from blowing a hundred thousand yen.”

The two boarded the train to Yongen-Jaya, where Sojiro would hopefully be waiting with good news. Packed like sardines in the crowded space, she barely heard his next remarks over the chaotic din.

“I’m just hoping Boss made out better than we did…”

* * *

It was hard to feel confident in a doctor nicknamed “The Plague,” but Sojiro would have to go with his gut on this search.

His lead felt flimsy, but he was convinced he had figured out Wakaba’s supplier for medication. On the bottom of the painkillers’ prescription was a small note: “Property of Takemi Medical Clinic.” He knew of only one professional with that name – Dr. Tae Takemi, the woman who ran a small office in Yongen-Jaya. Back in the day, all sorts of nasty rumors were muttered about her in Leblanc. People claimed she was a hack peddling drugs for cash, or a fraud who resigned from her old post in disgrace. He didn’t know if any rumors were true, but he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. If Wakaba trusted her, then he would, too.

The waiting room for her clinic was nothing out of the ordinary. Cold, sterile, and scarcely-decorated, just like any other doctor’s office he’d been to. Light jazz music played from an aged speaker while he waited to be called up. He was next on the list, but Takemi had already taken in another patient before he arrived.

Idly flipping through a tabloid, Sojiro skimmed the news articles. There was a two-page spread on the subway incident and the other “psychotic breakdowns.” Summaries of national events were placed after that. Nothing world-shattering stuck out to him – a Big Bang Burger chain opening in Hawaii, work beginning on an international release of the Neo-Feathermen series, and a new book releasing about “the truth behind the Spear of Destiny.” A few pages of ads later, an editorial penned by Ichiko Ohya questioned the government response to the shutdowns, suggesting that inaction would hurt the majority party’s chances at re-election.

By the time he had reached the back cover, the exam room’s door swung open, and a very familiar face stopped just short of the exit.

“Ren? What are you doing here?”

He looked just as surprised to see Sojiro. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, Ren began rattling off a mumbled explanation.

“Well…see, I was just…I stopped by so I could…”

“…He volunteered to do some work for me. How could I refuse a helping hand?”

Sojiro caught a glimpse of long, pale legs as Takemi shut the exam room doors. He had never used the phrase “loud” to describe outfits, but no other word came close to doing her wardrobe justice. She was like a goth fashion model in a lab coat! Piercings, dyed blue hair, leather boots, and a neon dress wouldn’t be too out-of-place worn by an artist or musician, but by a practicing physician?

“I’ll text you the next time I need your help,” she told Ren. “Go get some rest, you’ll need it.”

Ren’s legs moved stiffly as he left the office. Returning to the front desk, Takemi giggled to herself and set her clipboard aside. He had plenty of questions, both for her and for Ren, but decided to bottle them up for now. She would be less likely to help him if he pestered her.

“Now, what can I do for you?” Her eyes narrowed at him. “You run that coffee shop not far from here, don’t you?”

Sojiro beamed with pride, like any small business owner would when given recognition. “That’s right, owner and operator of Café Leblanc. Did your friends recommend it to you?”

“No. Sometimes, I see the sign on the way to work.”

Nothing could deflate an ego quite like brutal honesty. Salvaging whatever pride he had left, Sojiro jotted down his name and returned to his seat. He wasn’t an impatient man, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with much more waiting. It was hard to duck out of Leblanc during business hours without feeling a swell of shame, like he was a high schooler ditching class.

He went through the usual routine for killing time – checking his phone’s clock, reading through any notes he had typed up, and going over his messages. He stopped midway through his message to the others, unsure of his contact’s availability. Did that craftsman still work at the Red Light District? Old headlines about an arrest jostled in the back of his mind.

 **Sojiro:** Actually scratch that Shinjuku idea. Outdated info.

 **Sojiro:** A guy I knew used to make lockpicks and smoke bombs over there.

 **Sojiro:** I think he’s serving a nickel for counterfeiting.

Mere moments after locking his phone, a barrage of angry texts arrived at his inbox.

 **Kawakami:** We’re already out here!

 **Kawakami:** Did we just waste our time?!?

 **Sojiro:** Sorry…

 **Sojiro:** All that stuff’s essential. If we can’t buy it, we’ll have to make it ourselves.

Manicured nails covered his phone’s screen. Takemi stood over him with an amused smirk.

“I’m ready to see you. Please head to the exam room.”

He nodded and, with the scant time he had, sent out two more texts. It would be a miracle if they were anything less than pissed at him. He would need to make it up to them later.

 **Sojiro:** Hold up, I’m getting called in.

 **Sojiro:** Hope this goes better than your search…

Once inside, he went through the motions of a standard physical exam. It wasn’t really necessary, since he had gotten one in January, but it would provide the perfect opportunity to talk to Takemi alone. He wasn’t insane enough to broach the topic in the waiting room, where anyone could overhear their dubiously-legal exchange. The best place to bring it up would be a quiet, isolated part of the clinic, and what fit that better than the exam room?

Sojiro let out another deep breath. Takemi removed her stethoscope from his back, apparently satisfied with what she heard.

“It looks like you’re in fine health, Sakura-san. Get that mole checked out, and I’ll see you next year for another check-up.”

“There’s something else I wanted to ask you about.”

“Oh?” Takemi said.

“I need to buy some medication.”

She shrugged at his request. “There’s a pharmacy not far from here. Chances are, they’ll have whatever you need.”

“I don’t mean any off-the-counter pills; I’m talking about the stuff you make.” He held out the bottle of Recover-R for her to see. “I can’t tell you why, but I need more of this for some side work I’m doing. How much would you sell it for?”

It all happened so quickly – Takemi dropping her clipboard, snatching the bottle from his hands, locking the exam room. When she whirled around at him, her stare was icy enough to wipe out his bravado. Not many people could make him feel genuine fear, but she could be added to the list. Though her face was flat and expressionless, her voice simmered with cold anger.

“I am _sick_ of you people barging in here and demanding medication under-the-counter. Do you have any _idea_ how long it’s taken me rebuild my reputation in Shibuya? You know why people still call me names like ‘plague’ and ‘butcher?’ It’s because of junkies like you who pester me for their next fix!” The emergency call screen on her phone flashed. “You’re going to tell me _exactly_ why you want it, and if I’m not happy with your answer, I’m telling the police all about your attempt to blackmail me for drugs!”

She had him by the jugular, there was no other way to look at it. If he didn’t come up with something quick, he’d be getting a ride to the station! No amount of smooth talking could save him from a drug arrest! Seized with panic, Sojiro blurted out the only half-truth he could muster.

“It’s not for me; it’s for my daughter!”

Takemi’s grip on her phone slackened. Her lips moved, but she gave none of the sarcastic counters or denials he expected. Was she going to give him a chance? Hoping to sell his story further, Sojiro pressed on.

“Futaba had some major health issues after her mom died. She barely ate or slept, and her uncle’s abuse only made her problems worse. It took months to help her get past them, but by then, the damage had already been done. She still has episodes with pain and discomfort, stuff that off-the-shelf painkillers can’t treat. My daughter’s the strongest and bravest girl I know, but even she can’t get through it all without medication.”

It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie, which is why he was able to sell it so sincerely. Futaba did have problems in the early months of her adoption, but she overcame most of them after her change of heart. She was a little underweight, but otherwise didn’t have any health problems that he knew of. But, hey, if it got him off the hook, he would gladly stretch the truth a little.

Of course, thinking of Futaba’s uncle was a surefire way to make his mood sour. The other Isshikis insisted Youji never truly abused his niece – he was just a grieving man unable to cope with the loss of his sister. If they asked Sojiro, he would have said he was a bad gambler and an even worse guardian, and that was _if_ he held his tongue.

“I’m not asking for crates of pills to sell on the street,” he concluded. “I just want enough to help my daughter through any of her pain spasms. I’ll pay you a fair amount for every prescription.”

All he could do now was hope his story would do the trick. The alternatives were leaving empty-handed or in handcuffs.

Takemi continued to mull over his explanation. Her hands fidgeted in her pockets; briefly, she placed a pen near her lips and chewed on its end. The edge of her lips twitched, bright lipstick shining in the afternoon’s light. A quiet exhale of breath left her nose.

“I’m only giving them to you on two conditions.”

Sojiro’s heart leapt with relief. “Whatever they are, I’ll do them!”

“Number one: you’re paying for the prices I give, no matter how unreasonable you think they are. Number two: you owe me a favor that I can collect whenever I choose.”

“What kind of a favor?”

“I’ll let you know I come up with it. You won’t be doing any trials for me – it wouldn’t be ethical, and I already have a guinea pig.” She let out another soft, breathy chuckle. “Do you agree to both terms? If not, you can forget I offered you anything.”

If he said yes, he would be handing Takemi his money and a blank check. Vague demands like that always made him uneasy: they could be as grand or as meek as one saw fit, and she didn’t strike him as the type to ignore any windows of opportunity. However, if he said no, their chances of surviving the Metaverse would be far slimmer. It didn’t take long for him to come up with an answer.

“You can hold me to your terms. It’s a deal.”

Takemi had said that he was well within the healthy weight range, but she apparently didn’t feel the same way about his wallet. After they had finished their business together, it left the clinic a lot thinner than it had been going into it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, more confidants are making their first appearances! The dynamics between them are going to be a blast to write, I can already tell. Their interactions have been fun to draft up, even if I can't use most of them yet.
> 
> I did some basic research on tarot card readings and the arcanas before writing this chapter, but I'm not too knowledgeable about the way they work. If I screwed something up in the section with Chihaya, don't be afraid to tell me!
> 
> Somewhat off-topic, but I'm kind of sad that Chihaya and Ohya don't get much attention in the fandom compared to the other confidants. I'm not gonna claim that their stories are better than Tae's or Kawakami's, but their routes had their own charm to them. At least Lala Escargot gets a lot of love. Seriously, I'd be on-board for her getting her own confidant route.
> 
> If all goes according to plan, the crew should return to the Metaverse within the next couple chapters.


	10. Up And Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Training montages are a dime a dozen in movies, but I have rarely seen them in books or short stories. I attempted to depict a montage like that in this chapter, so its structure is a little more broken-up than usual.

Sunday was supposed to be a day of reprieve; at least, that’s what Yuuki had grown up believing. It was supposed to be spent with your family and friends – or, as it usually turned out, hunched over a pile of half-finished homework. Everybody was supposed to take it easy on their one day off!

Apparently, “everybody” did not include Sojiro. At the crack of dawn, Yuuki got a call from him about their training. They were all supposed to meet outside Café Leblanc an hour before it opened, and judging by his tone, he did not expect them to miss it or arrive late.

Man, adults were so _busy_ all the time. At least school had breaks and regular days off! Was he going to be that stressed and worn-out when he reached adulthood?

Pushing aside his own reluctance, he laced up his shoes, threw on a Shujin Volleyball jacket, and made the trek to Yongen-Jaya. Dawn had broken, and the streets were being coated in the faint, vibrant light of the rising sun. Despite its busy reputation, Tokyo wasn’t exactly a “city that never slept.” The commute to the café was a quiet, solitary trip. Most people were taking advantage of the day off and were sleeping in, sort of like what he had intended to do.

Still, wandering the city before it truly “woke up” was pleasant. Without the traffic and commotion, it had become like a quaint town you could walk through without looking over your shoulder. It almost made the early rise worth the trouble. _Almost_.

He found the others waiting by Leblanc’s entrance. Kawakami looked as disheveled as Yuuki was, though Sojiro had made himself appear more presentable. Wordlessly, Sojiro handed him a steaming mug of coffee. Kawakami continued to take tepid sips of her own in between shivers.

Without a hint of hesitation, Sojiro launched into a speech that must’ve been prepared several nights before.

“If you’re going to be a phantom thief, then you’re going to learn the skills the way I did! That means we start our work here, not in the cognitive world. Trust me, as powerful as you felt back there, it’s safer to test your limits in a place without shadows.”

“Did we have to start this early?” Kawakami groaned.

“This is the only free time I’ll have today! If what Mishima told you is true, then we have about two weeks before Kamoshida gets him expelled along with Ren. He’s already brutalized enough students; we’re not letting him get away with ruining any more lives! We all need to be ready for the Metaverse as soon as possible!”

Yuuki gulped down his first shot of coffee. For some mornings, he could get by without a drop of caffeine. This was not one of those days. “Don’t forget about Ryuji.”

Sojiro’s eyebrows raised. “Who?”

“Oh, right, you never met him. Ren and I are friends with him. He’s gonna get expelled, too.”

“Then we’re trying to save three students from an unfair expulsion. Geez, the stakes keep getting higher…” He cleared his throat. “The point is that we can save them by changing Kamoshida’s heart, but we can’t pull that off without the right skills!”

“What skills would we need?” Kawakami asked. “Couldn’t our personas do the work for us?”

“You can’t just rely on them. Sometimes, you’ll hit a problem that your persona can’t solve, like a locked door or a patrol you need to sneak around. You might be faster and stronger in the cognitive world, but that doesn’t mean you’ll instantly know about stealth or picking locks.”

“So you’re going to teach us all of the tricks in your playbook? But how will we learn all of that in two weeks?”

“Simple: I’m going to give you a crash course. Kawakami, hand me your purse.”

Reluctantly, she unlooped it from her arm and gave it to him. “We aren’t strangers any more. You can call me ‘Sadayo.’ All my other friends do it.”

In return, he tossed her a small bundle of thin metallic sticks. Each one was no bigger than a paperclip bent into a straight line. Distinct bumps and creases marred them.

“Lockpicks?” she guessed.

Sojiro took Yuuki by the crook of his arm. Leading him towards Leblanc’s front door, he said, “You’re going to learn how to infiltrate a locked-down area while under pressure. The goal is to get inside here before the hour is up.”

“W-wait, shouldn’t you give me back my-”

“-Good luck!” Sojiro cheekily declared.

With a bow, he pulled Yuuki inside and slammed the door on Kawakami’s face. Locks firmly in place, Sojiro reclined at a booth and sat her purse on the table.

“Boss, Kawakami-san is gonna be so pissed!” Yuuki cried.

Sojiro shrugged off his concerns. “That’s the point. You won’t always be in the best frame of mind in the Metaverse. Learning how to control that stress – or, better yet, direct it into something useful – is a crucial skill for survival.”

He passed him a plain grey lock with a keyhole, much like the ones left in the Shujin locker rooms. Usually, he preferred combination locks, since he tended to have the worst luck with losing keys. In a roundabout way, he was learning a new solution that age-old problem.

“While Sadayo does her own work outside, you’ll be working with opening traditional locks. Most locks in the cognitive world require keys, so lockpicks are a godsend. Speaking of which,” Sojiro gave him another bundle, “try not to break them, okay? It takes time to put them together.”

Kawakami appeared by the window, angrily ranting and knocking on the glass to get Sojiro’s attention. The walls muffled much of what she was saying, but he knew none of it was pretty. As if she wasn’t there, Sojiro closed the blinds on her.

“In the Metaverse, you can either sink or swim. You can really cut loose there, but you’ll also be in danger from the get-go. If we’re going to work as a team, then we’ll need to be on the same page. As long as we’re on par with each other for stealth and stealing, we’ll be a force to be reckoned with.”

Going down the line, Sojiro lowered the shutters on every window Kawakami pounded on. Yuuki just hoped he wouldn’t get any blame for it when this was all over. He was in enough trouble at school as it was; he didn’t need another teacher hating his guts.

“Right, where was I?” Sojiro asked himself. “What I’m doing to her might not be nice, but it’ll be the most important training she’ll get. When she learns how to handle sudden pressure on the job, nothing will stand in her way. For now, she has two choices: sink into self-pity or swim to success. It’s up to her to-”

There was a crash at the back of Leblanc. Cutting his speech short, Sojiro rushed to see what had happened with Yuuki tailing behind him.

A brick had been hurled through the window on the back door. Glass shards were scattered along the wooden floor, all spread out around the outline of the window’s new opening. Like a villain in a slasher movie, Kawakami suddenly lurched by the hole, grunting with frustrated fury as she forced her hand inside and unlocked the door manually.

Yuuki heard a low gulp leave Sojiro’s throat. “…Well…that’s one way to get inside…”

* * *

Lockpicks were fragile things, as Yuuki was quickly learning. That night’s experiments had left three more picks broken, leaving him with only two to work with. He thought he was getting the hang of it, but it was so easy to screw up! Too much pressure on one end, jerking his hand, or losing grip of the pick risked snapping off a piece of it, and every centimeter of it was necessary for the job.

Sprawled out on his bed, he started practicing with a new pick. Sojiro’s lock was a sturdy thing, as his past failures had proven. None of the broken lockpicks had caused any lasting damage to it.

He nearly felt bad for the damage done to Leblanc, but Sojiro had made an obvious and grave mistake: never get between a woman and her handbag. Yuuki would have had the same reaction if he had taken his laptop.

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the task at hand. Setting aside Sojiro’s gear, he pulled open his latest message.

 **Ren:** Hey

 **Mishima:** Hi! How’s it been?

 **Ren:** Been better, been worse

 **Ren:** Look, I never got to say it in person

 **Ren:** So I’ll say it here

 **Mishima:** Is something wrong?

 **Ren:** I’m sorry

 **Mishima:** About what?

 **Ren:** Kamoshida

 **Ren:** Avoiding you

 **Ren:** Everything

 **Mishima:** Are you kidding? I should be apologizing to you!

 **Mishima:** This is my fault! I spread those rumors about you!

 **Ren:** He bullied you into it

 **Ren:** I’m not gonna hate you for something he made you do

 **Mishima:** So why say sorry? You didn’t do anything wrong!

 **Ren:** You told me all about him and why I should back off, and I didn’t listen

 **Ren:** You and Ryuji wouldn’t be getting expelled if I heard you out

 **Mishima:** Aren’t you forgetting that he wants to expel you, too?

 **Ren:** How could I?

 **Ren:** …

 **Ren:** This wasn’t how it was supposed to go

 **Ren:** All I wanted was another shot at a normal sophomore year

 **Ren:** Instead, I got us wrapped up in a bonafide shitstorm

 **Mishima:** Something will work out, I’m sure of it. Kamoshida won’t get away with abusing his power.

 **Ren:** I hope so…

 **Mishima:** I know so! You just have to trust me!

 **Ren:** lol, I will

 **Ren:** Glad we have each other’s backs

Closing his phone, Yuuki resumed his work and felt a shimmer of relief. He thought Ren would hate him for what he had done, and he wouldn’t have held it against him. To see him foist the blame on himself and apologize was unreal.

At least they were still friends. He had so few these days that he treasured them all.

With an audible pop, the lock finally sprung open. Giddy as could be, he pumped his fists in the air and cheered to himself, mimicking the roar of an applauding crowd.

Across the hall, a voice cried out, “Yuuki, go to bed!”

“Yes, mom!” he hurriedly replied, shelving the tools and throwing himself under the covers.

* * *

Quick wits and fast reflexes may be virtues hawked by Sojiro, but Sadayo was beginning to think that time management overshadowed both of them easily. Stealing hearts didn’t take care of any of her real world responsibilities, even if she would do a lot of good by exposing Kamoshida’s crimes. She still had to worry about teaching several classes per day, grading assignments, and getting to her second job on top of any activities relating to the cognitive world. That meant time was a precious resource, and she had to make the most of every minute – or risk drowning in backlogged work.

This reasoning was why she was hunched over in the teacher’s lounge, assembling lockpicks and smoke bombs on what was supposed to be her lunch break. Her phone was angled against a stack of ungraded papers, displaying an off-and-on conversation she was having with Sojiro. Beside the tangled mess of mechanical parts was her lunch, which she took bites of between texts and attempts at building equipment.

 **Kawakami:** I think I’m getting the hang of this!

 **Kawakami:** This is easier than the first time. I think it might be usable for once.

 **Sojiro:** Good, good.

 **Sojiro:** Glad all your hard work is paying off.

 **Sojiro:** When you’re done with that, I’ll send the instructions for making a Goho-M.

 **Kawakami:** How’s Mishima handling this?

 **Mishima:** Handling it like a boss! This is so cool! It’s like I’m actually prepping for a heist!

 **Kawakami:** …

 **Kawakami:** You’d better be in your lunch period or we’re going to have another talk.

 **Mishima:** I am! I swear!

 **Kawakami:** Good.

Her thumb lingered over her touchpad. Overcoming her hesitation to type out the next message, she sent hers just as Sojiro posted one of his own.

 **Kawakami:** Sojiro…you want me to pay for that window, don’t you?

 **Sojiro:** Don’t think I forgot about the broken window. You’re paying for it.

There went another portion of her paycheck. Between taxes, personal expenses, and payments to the Takase family, she barely had anything left to save. At least, for once, she was paying someone back for something that was actually her fault.

Outside the lounge, Kamoshida’s hearty laugh slithered under the door. She barely held back a shudder. Since she had seen the full extent of his corruption, it had become difficult for her to stomach being near him. Everything he did was so obviously fake now, right down to the jovial laughs and supportive smiles he would give to students and faculty. Even though he showed no signs of knowing what had happened in his palace, she was paranoid that, somehow, he would discover the truth and call her out publicly for it.

“…Really, that’s a cute excuse, but I’m afraid it just won’t cut it! Your grades in gym glass are lagging behind your other classes, Sakura. What would your old man say if he knew your athletic performance held you back from the honor roll?”

“I…haven’t thought about it that much…”

 _Oh no_. He had called her “Sakura,” hadn’t he? As in Futaba Sakura, Sojiro’s daughter? There was only one other Sakura in the school, and he was an unrelated senior on the volleyball team. That meant that Kamoshida had cornered another girl with an offer he wouldn’t let her refuse.

It was the same thing that happened to Suzui, was happening to Takamaki, and could be happening to so many other girls in the academy. Was there ever a limit to this man’s disgusting behavior?

She wouldn’t let him lay a finger on one more student.

Before she could second-guess herself, she jumped out of her chair and swung open the door to the teacher lounge. Taken aback by her sudden entrance, Kamoshida and Futaba went silent, giving her an ample opportunity to step in.

“There you are, Sakura! I was expecting you five minutes ago! You shouldn’t arrive so late to a tutoring session that you requested!” Flashing a fake smile to sell the lie, she turned to Kamoshida. “Could you give us a moment? This works best when there are less people present.”

“Um, right. Of course. Sorry for holding you two up.” Recovering as best as he could, Kamoshida gave another chuckle and went down the hall.

Futaba had gone completely motionless. Her eyes shifted from the open door to the space Kamoshida once stood at. Her hands retreated into the pockets of her uniform. Though her lips moved, she said nothing audible.

As gently as she could, Sadayo took her by the arm and led her inside, taking care not to let her trip when her feet began to drag. Closing the door, she helped Futaba into one of the empty seats. All she could do now was hope the girl wouldn’t pay her half-finished thieving tools any notice.

After a lengthy bout of silence, Futaba finally spoke up. “…I thought…I didn’t think I was his type. I kept thinking he would leave me alone…”

“I learned plenty about Kamoshida-san in the past week. You’re on his radar, just like all of the other girls. Believe me when I say you do _not_ want to be alone with him. If he ever tries to do that to you again, come find me. I’ll do everything I can keep you two separate.”

“But the principal’s on his side! He’ll choose him over you in a heartbeat! Why go out of your way to help me?”

Because every time she closed her eyes at night, she saw Suzui’s body crashing into the ground. She saw Mishima bruised and run ragged, Takamaki cornered, Amamiya and Sakamoto thrown out onto the streets. She had turned a blind eye towards Shujin’s problems for far too long. It had to be reformed from the inside-out, and she was one of the few who could achieve that.

“I had let one student down when she came to me for help,” Sadayo admitted. “I made a promise to never let anyone else get hurt, even if it cost me my career.”

* * *

“I think I’m getting the hang of this!”

Clinging to the attic window of Leblanc, Yuuki pressed his feet against the roof and began working on the latch. It had a different kind of lock than the kind he had practiced on, but the same strategies were working on it. At least, he _hoped_ they were working.

The alternative was lowering himself to the concrete and looking for a new entry point. Leblanc was pretty secure overall, so his options were limited. The front door’s locks were complex and time-consuming to deal with. The back window might have been a possibility, but it was undergoing repairs due to its blind date with a brick. Anywhere else would just invite weird looks and potential cop calls.

Hearing the latch click, Yuuki pushed the window open and crawled into Leblanc’s attic. Keeping his hands pressed against the floor, he “walked” forward until he could slip his legs inside and shut the opening.

Kawakami clicked off her stopwatch. “14 minutes. That’s a new record for you!”

Above him, the others watched him complete his mock infiltration with approval. Yuuki went red with embarrassment, as he always did when praised.

“What can I say? I learned from the best.”

A week of crafting, training, and strategizing was paying off. They were going above and beyond Sojiro’s expectations for this point. Their work with the infiltration tools was spot-on, and despite their first blunders, they were getting better at the challenges he would throw their way. He was becoming confident enough in their abilities to openly consider them equals, not liabilities to watch out for on the job.

“Do you have anything else in mind for us?” she asked. “Any other tools to build or skills to learn?”

Sojiro paced from one end of the attic to the next, walking past Ren’s meager decorations with every lap. His hand was held over his goatee, and his eyes were locked on the floorboards. After a lengthy bout of deliberation, he gave his answer.

“Meet me outside of Shujin around 4 tomorrow. We’re going back to the palace.”


	11. Full Force Forward

Warping into the Metaverse reminded Sojiro of an important step he had overlooked. He and the others may have gathered their equipment and honed their skills, but they had forgotten one other detail crucial to their survival.

“Hold up for a minute. Before we get started, you two need to choose your codenames.”

The other Phantom Thieves stared at him perplexed, as if he had suggested they throw down a blanket and have a picnic on the castle’s grounds. Really, he couldn’t blame them. His crash course left out a few aspects about the cognitive world, now that he thought about it, were essential to know. Better to explain things now than put them off and risk the entire operation.

“Do we need them?” Kawakami asked. “You said this wasn’t our world. It’s not like it’ll matter whether those shadows hear our names.”

“I’ll show you why they’re important. Watch this.” He planted both feet on the ground and said one word: “Mishima.”

A distortion flashed in front of his view, nearly throwing him off-balance. Judging by the others’ distressed reactions, something similar must have happened to them.

“That’s another one of those blurry things!” the boy cried. “Kawakami-san and I kept seeing them when we first got here!”

“They’re called distortions. The cognitive world exists outside of ours for a reason. Bringing up reminders of our reality causes all sorts of problems over here. If we’re going to avoid creating any more distortions, we’ll need to work under codenames.”

Mishima and Kawakami nodded, but offered up no suggestions. Mishima held his hand up to his chin, opened his mouth as if to speak, but remained silent. Kawakami paced around the castle entrance, occasionally passing her rifle from one hand to the other.

 _Old friend, I believe they are lacking inspiration,_ Pechorin said. _Tell them your name._

Of course! How would they know what to choose if they were still fresh-faced? They needed an example before something concrete would occur to them.

“The codename isn’t something you should overthink. It should reflect some part of who you are.” Sojiro raised a finger in the air, striking a pose that he hoped would appear heroic. “Back in the day, I was known as the legendary phantom thief, Solo!”

Like Shadow Futaba and Shadow Kamoshida, his companions reacted to his name with a mix of amusement and relative confusion.

“‘Solo?’ As in, the act of going it alone?”

“‘Solo?’ As in, the smuggler?”

Sojiro’s enthusiastic smile faltered. “‘Solo,’ as in, the shot of coffee.”

“That’s, uh…” Kawakami struggled to find the right words, “…a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter what you think of my name! This is about choosing yours, and until you do that, we can’t start our infiltration!”

Mishima snapped his fingers. “Why don’t we bounce ideas off each other? Since he’s Solo, and you’re a teacher, why don’t you be…‘Master?’”

“I’ll pass. I’ve called enough people ‘master’ for a lifetime, and I don’t want anyone to do the same for me.” Finding herself at the center of an uncomfortable silence, Kawakami blanched. “D-did I say something weird? Haha, I don’t even know!” She laughed in a poor attempt to distance herself from her last remark.

He wasn’t sure how to react to that one. Without any context, he could only think of lewd reasons for her addressing others as “master.” Granted, there were still housemaid services in existence, but he knew so little about how they operated. Maybe he just had a dirty mind…

For her sake, Sojiro decided not to raise further questions. If she thought it was worth sharing, she would tell them when she was comfortable with it.

“You said it’s a reflection of who we are, right? That sounds like our outfits in the cognitive world.” Mishima pinched the fabric of his suit. “If I dressed like this back in our world, I’d get laughed at. Everybody would think I’m a wimp trying to look tough. Over here, the tables are flipped. I’m like a wolf in sheep’s clothing...” Midway through his pacing, he came to a sudden halt. “That’s it! ‘Wolf!’ It’s perfect! You can call me Wolf!”

It wouldn’t have been Sojiro’s first choice, but he wasn’t going to say that aloud. Besides, the kid looked so proud of himself for coming up with the name. How could he squash all of that enthusiasm with his misgivings?

While Mishima continued rambling on about his new codename, Kawakami spoke over him. “I’ve been thinking. There was something Tess said after my awakening, something about burning out if I didn’t handle her power wisely. Maybe I should take her advice to heart and call myself-”

“-Burnout!” Mishima interjected. “It’s the right fit! After all, teachers have no chill!”

Out of anyone else’s mouth, that might have been considered a snide comment, but Mishima’s sincerity and amicability made it hard to hold it against him.

“…You know, that’s a better idea than the one I had,” she admitted. “Why not? ‘Burnout’ it is.”

Solo, Wolf, and Burnout. It was an odd collection of names, but they were easily growing on Sojiro. They had officially shed their old identities and embraced their true selves. All they needed to prove their mettle as phantom thieves was to pull off a heist – and Kamoshida’s treasure was ripe for the picking.

This raised a question: where had the tyrant king hidden the source of his distorted desires? The castle was huge, so combing the entire place for clues wouldn’t be viable. They would have to make an assumption and stick with it.

Now, if he was a ruler of a shadowy fortress, where would he hide his most valuable belongings? His initial thought was in some underground chamber. The maze-like corridors of the dungeon would be great for stashing a vault or safe. Then again, it wasn’t hard to get there, and being underground meant it would be vulnerable to tunneling. If it wasn’t at the bottom floor, then there was no way Kamoshida would have placed it in the main halls. The treasure would be easy pickings, even with shadows patrolling around the clock.

Sojiro’s gaze traveled to the ramparts of the castle, where a solitary tower rose above the palace’s grounds. Now _there_ was an idea…

“Our best bet at finding the treasure would be in that tower. If we don’t let ourselves get stuck on any single floor for too long, we should be able to make the ascent pretty quickly.” Checking the bullets in his magazine, Sojiro flipped the safety off his handgun and holstered it. “Remember, as long as we’re in the Metaverse, we’re calling each other by our codenames. That means we’re Solo, Wolf, and Burnout until we return to Shibuya. Don’t even _think_ about yourself or the others using a real name. The more you embrace your other self, the better shot we have at nailing Kamoshida. Let’s get to work!”

* * *

Yuuki – scratch that, _Wolf_ – was learning more about his volleyball coach with every passing moment in his palace, and he was beginning to think that he had been better off not knowing. The sheer depravity of Kamoshida’s inner desires surpassed his wildest expectations of the man.

It wasn’t like there was some plaque standing around with a list of his crimes, no, this was far more subtle. It was like a trail of breadcrumbs they were following as they ascended the castle, sneaking around shadows and catching snippets of conversations.

A trio of knights turned at the end of the hall and began to approach them. With Burnout and Solo by his side, the three took cover behind a statue of a half-naked girl from Shujin. Its face was a blank slate, but its body had extensive detailing along its contours and curves. He didn’t want to imagine which victim it was modeled off of.

“Did you hear?” the middle shadow asked its companions. “King Kamoshida granted the male slaves a water break today.”

“Our lord is so generous! To think, lowly scum like the slaves still receive mercy from a glorious leader like him!”

Their third companion scoffed. “If you ask me, he was too kind to that riff-raff. One minute for water is overdoing it. Back in my day, they were lucky to get thirty seconds!”

The shadows were getting within leaping distance. He remembered Solo’s advice about ambushes: jump onto their shoulders and go for the mask. If that gets ripped off, they’ll be too disoriented to make the first move.

His hands clenched with anticipation. It was so easy to imagine oneself pulling off stunts like that. However, when it came time to do the deed, he always felt the weight of nervousness pressing down on him.

 _Don’t allow the fear of failure to stop you_ , Bernard told him. _Every journey begins with a first step. Even if you stumble along the way, it won’t matter as long as you reach your destination._

He had almost forgotten that his persona could talk. In a way, he was grateful for it. He needed someone to back him up, even if it was just another side of him.

Ignoring any feelings of hesitation, Wolf emerged from cover and dove onto the centermost shadow. Digging his heels into its armor, he fought off its efforts to unbalance him and reached for the mask contained within its helmet. Fingers clenching around it, he pulled with all of his might while its bolts gave way.

A startled cry came forth from the shadow. Wolf held its mask over his head triumphantly, like a predator displaying a trophy of its kill.

“Good job, kid! Now get out of there!”

Solo’s warning came too little, too late. The shadow melted underneath Wolf and suddenly re-emerged as a Mandrake, tossing him back with unparalleled force. The other shadows followed suit, transforming into a Pyro Jack and Pixie.

Getting back onto his feet, Wolf attempted to shake off the fall. “So much for the element of surprise…” he muttered.

Burnout’s rifle pumped bullet after bullet into the Pyro Jack, filling the halls with its deafening roar. Wolf was starting to appreciate the noiselessness of his and Solo’s firearms.

The Mandrake lunged for him, landing a blow that knocked the crossbow out of his hands. He dodged back as it swung again, missing by mere inches.

“Bufu!” he cried, directing Bernard’s power against the Mandrake. Ice crystals impaled the shadow, ending its assault.

Burnout’s persona finished off the Pyro Jack with a slash of wind. Sensing the doomed outcome of the battle, the Pixie attempted to flee the battle. Solo jumped between it and the stairs. Summoning Pechorin, he sliced the shadow in two with a Cut.

That same surge of power he had felt after his first battle returned. Was it just him, or was he getting stronger after every fight? The way Burnout was reacting to the battle’s conclusion – shaking out her arms, jumping on her toes as if to keep the blood rushing – made him think that it wasn’t just a hunch he was having. How powerful could they get, then? Was there an upper limit to their potential?

 _I suppose we have a duty to find out,_ Bernard remarked.

Wolf retrieved his crossbow. Thinking back to the start of the fight, he said, “…Do you think all of what they said was true?”

Burnout’s lips curled with unbridled disgust. “He considers something as basic as a water break to be generosity? For his sake, that had better be exaggerated.”

With no other patrols in sight, the three resumed their steady advance through the castle. Wolf wasn’t certain where this journey would take him, but if he emerged from it more powerful and sure of himself, then he would follow it through to its end.

* * *

Forget calling it a castle; labyrinth was a more apt title. All the side rooms, hidden passageways, and locked doors were forcing the Thieves to behave like rats, scurrying through every opening they could find to navigate the palace’s impossible architecture. Not even the map they had snagged from a caged table could solve all of their problems! With only their knowledge of the previous corridors and instincts to guide them, they cautiously pushed forward, dispatching shadow patrols with brutal efficiency.

Burnout didn’t consider herself to be an aggressive or remotely violent person. She abhorred fights and tried to avoid arguments whenever possible. Yet, when she was cutting shadows down, a rush of excitement ran through her. It wasn’t just the subtle increase in power that was causing it – a concept Solo had explained during a moment of downtime – it was an undeniable thrill. Was it normal to find pleasure in the destruction of one’s foes?

 _Normal? I would not think so._ Tess confided in her. _But this situation does not call for normalcy. “Normal” people looked the other way while this tyrant crushed the dreams of children. Extraordinary people don’t ignore that plight. They put arrogant fools like Kamoshida in their crosshairs and bring them to their knees!_

“That’s…that’s not wrong, just really dark.”

With a light click of her tongue, her persona said, _Revenge isn’t pretty or romantic. It’s a grim struggle that rarely leaves anyone satisfied. But we’re not here for our satisfaction, are we? We’re here to set things right._

“You’re right, we’re not. Good thing we’re on the same page!”

_I couldn’t have awakened to a more capable woman._

Was talking to her persona the same as talking to herself? The persona was a part of her, but its thoughts didn’t always run identical to hers. For the sake of her sanity, she would tell herself it was a different experience. Besides, Tess’s feistiness made their talks a real treat.

Solo and Wolf lined up beside a door at the end of their passageway. Taking her place behind them, she watched their youngest member effortlessly pick the lock. Once it came loose, the three noiselessly slipped inside.

Before them stood another display of cognitive wealth and prestige. Lengthy dining tables adorned with candlesticks and plates of food jutted from one end of the room to the other. Chandeliers with nearly a dozen candles apiece kept the space constantly lit up. An elegantly-designed carpet ran under everything, even past the iron partition that divided the place in two.

Neither of the shadows had spotted them yet. Ducking under one of the tables, they inched along to the nearest way out. The closest knight turned its back to them and walked away, giving them an opportunity for a clean getaway. All they needed was to-

“-It’s like I said, these peasants are a constant pain in my ass! Even in servitude, they find ways to piss me off!”

Of all the times for Shadow Kamoshida to make an entrance! Without any covers to duck beneath, a hiding place under the tables wouldn’t do them any good. The banquet hall had such an open design that, no matter where they fled to, a shadow or the palace’s owner would spot them! His footsteps were drawing closer. If he opened the door and found them, then the whole castle would descend on them!

Everything on the ground could be considered compromised. Fleeing back where they came from would draw too many heads, and she doubted they could get out in time. If those options were out, then where…

“…The chandeliers!” she blurted out. “Jump onto them!”

“Won’t that leave us exposed?” Solo asked.

“They won’t look up! Years ago, I read in a book that hunters don’t search for game above them!”

Granted, it was a fictional book about a boy stranded in the woods, but she would like to believe there was some merit to it. Frankly, she needed it to be true, or their cover would be blown in the heart of the palace.

The doorknob began to twist. Whether or not they completely believed her was irrelevant, because all three of the Thieves immediately leapt onto the chandeliers, grabbing onto their stems and holding on for dear life.

His massive cape trailing behind him, Shadow Kamoshida strolled into the banquet hall with a girl around his arm. A knight captain followed in his wake, its arms flailing as he spoke down to it.

“I thought you said this was under control,” he growled.

“It was! We thought we had driven the intruders out, but they came back with a vengeance! They’re cutting our men down like a hot knife through cheese! All of our patrols on the lower floors have gone silent!”

Kamoshida’s companion gave a long, bored sigh. She stretched her back and, with only a bikini to cover it, showed off much of her ample figure. A sense of disgust swelled within Burnout. The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen, but Kamoshida was already ogling her in his mind!

A thought suddenly occurred to her. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the model-like poses…could that possibly be…

“Takamaki?” she gasped.

At the mere mention of her name, Wolf made the same connection. “That’s her! What the hell is she doing here? And why is she with _him?_ ”

“That’s not who you think it is,” Solo grunted. “It’s a cognition. She’s made such an impact on Kamoshida’s desires that she’s become a permanent part of the palace. From the looks of it, he wants her to be his queen.”

It took all of her restraint not to dive down and empty her clip into Shadow Kamoshida’s smarmy face. She clutched the chandelier’s supports hard enough to dent them.

_Calm down. This is not the time to unleash our anger on him._

Heeding Tess’s advice, she let out a held breath and ignored her vengeful desires. There were more pressing concerns at hand.

“Are you sure they’re the same ones as before?” Shadow Kamoshida demanded of his captain.

“The scouts think so! They know of three intruders: two men in suits and a woman in a gas mask.”

None of the newcomers had bothered to turn their gazes upwards. As crazy as her plan was, it hadn’t failed them yet.

“Ugh,” Cognitive Ann moaned. “Teenage rebellion is, like, _sooo_ lame. Why am I the only one who knows how awesome Kamoshida is?”

“Because Shujin is full of dumbasses who can’t respect authority. You’re part of the lucky few who know their place and get rewarded for it.” He pulled her closer into to him, sending her into a giggling fit. “Isn’t that right?”

Wolf looked as ready to pounce on him as she was. “That perverted creep…he’s not gonna get away with this…”

Shadow Kamoshida jabbed a finger at the knight captain. “I’m not letting some peasant filth muck up my kingdom! Double the guard around my quarters. Kill anyone who tries to enter them without my permission!”

The shadow enthusiastically saluted him. With his cognitive lover in tow, Shadow Kamoshida walked out of the banquet hall, leaving them alone with the remaining shadows on guard duty. The threat subsided, Burnout let her shoulders slack. There was no reason to tense up when they had made it out of the woods.

A bolt popped loose from her chandelier, then another. Its hinges dropped soon after. Apparently, they hadn’t quite cleared the metaphorical forest yet.

She jumped free as the chandelier broke free, crashing down in a spectacle of light and broken glass. Every shadow in the room had turned their attention to her and cried out in shock. In a matter of moments, the four knights vanished and returned in their monstrous forms.

“In the name of King Kamoshida, you thieves will perish!” the Bicorn declared.

Wolf and Solo joined her on the ground, weapons and personas ready for a fight. Fueled by her persona’s unceasing fury, Burnout charged into the fray.

The Bicorn lunged at her, knocking aside tables and chairs while wildly striking with its front hooves, his attacks barely held back by Tess’s strength. She would’ve retreated and attacked from a distance, but the room was too cramped and enclosed, forcing her to take the hits. Her persona slammed its head into the shadow, knocking it back and giving her precious time to prepare a counterattack.

The Agathions were shrugging off bullets and crossbow bolts alike. Solo and Wolf switched tactics, summoning their personas and alternating between shots of fire and ice.

Shaking off the attack, the Bicorn reared its head and charged, its double horns aimed to skewer Burnout where she stood. With no room to dodge and no time to block it, she reached into the sea of her soul and yelled an instinctive command.

“ _Magaru!_ ”

Fatigue overwhelmed her in a split-second. She could feel all of her energy being siphoned into her persona for an attack. Eyeholes glowing and breathing tubes rapidly flexing, Tess raised her arms and unleashed a whirlwind unlike anything she had mustered before.

The Bicorn went crashing into the partition, shattering it into a mess of iron parts and wooden supports. The Agathions were hit much harder, having lost the distinctive pots that housed their bodies, their shards scattered around the debris of the hall. With one attack, she had simultaneously downed every enemy in sight.

As stunned as she was, Wolf whispered, “Holy _crap_ …”

“Hey, don’t let this chance slip!” Solo cried. “They can’t fight back! We can finish them off!”

Pushing past her taxed body’s complaints, Burnout joined the Thieves in their all-out attack, descending upon the fallen shadows with ruthless synergy. Through the excessive dust that had been kicked up, she saw the Agathion she had targeted burst into a black mist. With a few well-placed hits from their personas, Solo and Wolf destroyed the other two.

Now, where was that-

“-Filthy intruders! This will become your tomb!”

The Bicorn smashed her against the wall, pinning her with the blunt side of its horns. Her ribs cracked under the pressure. She couldn’t suppress the cries of pain that followed, no matter how badly her pride wished to conceal them. This beast would crush her unless she killed it now!

_I don’t have enough room to attack! Force it off you or find another way to bring it down!_

Her rifle clicked empty, its clip having run dry among the frenzy. What the hell was she supposed to do now, throw her shoe at it? The pain in her torso was worsening as the Bicorn pushed harder. She would’ve preferred to be speared by its horns than to be crushed to death slowly!

Spearing it…

From the pouch attached to the rifle’s stock, Burnout retrieved the cosmetic addition she had purchased for her gun: a replica bayonet. It was dull and unthreatening in the real world, but that same factor might not apply in the cognitive world.

Pulling her legs up, she drove her boot into the Bicorn’s nose, crunching it underfoot and sending her attacker reeling back. Bayonet mounted and bloodlust in overdrive, Burnout charged the shadow.

“Wait, stop!” Solo held out a hand to dissuade her. “That’s not going to work-”

An agonized cry left the Bicorn. Having driven her bayonet into the shadow’s side, she roughly pulled it out and jabbed at it again, destroying the creature completely.

“I…I stand corrected,” he admitted.

Popping open a bottle of Takemi’s painkillers, Burnout downed its contents, humming in relief as her injured ribs and arms repaired themselves in mere seconds. The exhaustion from that wind attack still hung over her, but she could hardly regard that as a pressing issue. They had survived, and that was all that mattered to her.

Weakly smiling at her triumphant companions, Burnout lethargically said, “How about we take five? I think we’ve all earned a breather.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My biggest hang-up in writing this chapter was deciding how to handle the codenames. I wasn't sure whether to use them in narration or relegate them to quotes only. Ultimately, I thought that it would help with the immersion to have the characters embrace their new names in their POVs. If it is difficult to follow, I will change this chapter to the "quotes only" style.
> 
> So far, writing combat scenes has been an enjoyable challenge. They take longer to complete, but I think they're great for developing characters and moving the story along. Not to mention, I just find them fun to write.
> 
> Up next: safe rooms, melee weapons, and more stealthy escapades in Kamoshida's palace!


	12. Shadows And Trickery

Everybody had their blind spots when it came to their deepest desires. In reality, this could manifest through poor judgment calls or difficulty hiding those interests. In the cognitive world, blind spots took a turn for the literal: they served as unguarded areas of a palace, acting as safe rooms for anyone daring enough to dive deep into a target’s corrupted heart.

Suguru Kamoshida was no exception to this phenomenon. Past his castle’s banquet hall and wine cellar was a narrow doorway tucked away in a deserted corridor. If you weren’t looking for it, it would be easy to miss.

The door gave way without any resistance when Solo tried opening it. Inside, it appeared to be a dilapidated storage room rearranged into a makeshift rest stop. The walls were lined with cleaning equipment. A couple of benches stood at opposite ends of the small room. As the Phantom Thieves investigated further, a vision of the study hall in Shujin Academy briefly flashed before them, vanishing as soon as it appeared.

“That settles it, this is definitely a safe room. We can rest up and plan our next moves here.”

Pushing two chairs together, Burnout reclined back with an overdrawn sigh, kicking her feet out against the table. Solo and Wolf joined her at the other end. He wasn’t sure what his teammates would be doing, but he would be using the time they had to recuperate and think things over.

So…melee weapons. Those were a thing now.

_If you recall, old friend, we were never told anything to the contrary. Her advice suggested that firearms would be the most viable option, not the only option._

He reflected on Wakaba’s infiltration tips. Pechorin had a point: she never said _not_ to use them. He must have taken her comment in a completely different direction than she had intended. That meant getting a melee weapon for himself and Wolf would be a big priority.

Come to think of it, what if the problem didn’t stop there? What if he hadn’t gotten the big picture about the Metaverse, even with Wakaba guiding him? They had only done a few heists before her passing, which didn’t leave a ton of time to explain all of the Metaverse’s quirks. There was so much he could have missed out on without realizing it.

He wasn’t sure where to start, but he knew two people who would. Burnout and Wolf wouldn’t have any of his biases that came with experience. They would be willing to try anything to survive over here. In other circumstances, that would be a dangerous attitude to have, but it was perfect for this situation.

“I think we should pull back for today. We’ve gotten pretty far into the castle as it is. No need to overdo it in a single infiltration.”

It was plainly visible how badly they needed a rest. Though they had mostly recovered from the last battle, the hours of sneaking and fighting had begun to wear on them. Their reactions were slower, and their pace had slackened overall.

“Are you sure?” Wolf asked. “We don’t want to hold you back. If you can keep going…”

“No, we all should call it quits. Besides, this is a good point to stop at. The safe rooms are all connected to the Nav, so we can warp back here the next time we return. I just have to ask you for a favor…”

Burnout pulled herself upright. “What’s the favor?”

“The next time we return to the palace, I want you to try every crazy idea you can think of, just like what you did with the bayonet. Bring anything from the real world, try any idea that sounds off-the-wall, do whatever you can to test the limits of the Metaverse. If your plan sounds stupid but works, then it isn’t stupid at all.”

* * *

When it came time for the next infiltration, Kawakami and Mishima were bursting with new plans of attack and strategies. They had taken “try every crazy idea” to heart, not that Sojiro was complaining. Too many avenues of opportunity had been overlooked in his glory days as a phantom thief. He was content to tag along and watch his teammates try out their ideas from a safe distance, all while jotting down notes on a crumpled pad of paper.

Food healed wounds on a smaller scale than Takemi’s medicine could. Coffee restored stamina and energy for a persona’s elemental attacks. Frankly, he was embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of that long ago. They were so obvious now that it pained him to think about it.

As Burnout had demonstrated in their last palace visit, melee weapons were an effective way to fight off shadows. Solo had opted for a simple prop knife from Untouchables, while Wolf, in his infinite wisdom, brought a black-and-white umbrella with which to defend himself.

“You said to try anything!” he protested while parrying blows from an Incubus. “I’m only doing what you told me to!”

Solo couldn’t fault him for that logic, especially when a trio of bone-crushing blows from Mishima’s weapon of choice critically injured the Incubus. Rather than keep up the fight, it surrendered a couple thousand yen and fled into the inner recesses of the palace.

Wakaba’s notes on combat were taking a very literal turn. As long as the weapon could be perceived as lethal, it would act as such in the Metaverse, and that extended to fake blades and ordinary appliances. If he had to guess, their enhanced strength and speed in the cognitive world might have played a role in that. Something as simple as an umbrella could be deadly if it was swung around with enough force, both in the real world and in the cognitive one.

Not everything they tried worked well. Aside from the Nav, the apps on their phones always failed to load, and calls never went through. Walkie-talkies were no good – like their phones, their signals were jammed wherever they tried them. The craziest ideas, flares and explosives, were impractical in a fight, and would only serve them well as distractions.

Still, the two had really plumbed the depths of the Metaverse, and he felt some sense of pride in their efforts. If Wakaba was alive and kicking, she would be giddy about all of the new findings to pore over.

Solo closed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten over her, had he? She still dominated his thoughts at every turn. Exploring the Metaverse brought back memories of their partnership. Brewing a last pot of coffee before closing time reminded him of her late visits to Leblanc. Then there was Futaba, his last connection to her, who had become the daughter he had grown to love. Wakaba may have died two years ago, but her legacy never stopped looming over him. Was that normal? Should he have moved on, or was he supposed to preserve his memories of her forever?

Wolf gently nudged him. “Burnout’s in place on the ledge. Are you ready to start this?”

There were more pressing matters at hand than his lost love. They were encroaching on Kamoshida’s personal quarters, and security had gotten even tighter. The entrance to his tower was guarded by four nasty-looking shadows. The only way inside was through them.

The wind howled as Solo crept along the castle’s roof. Flags along the ramparts flapped against the breeze, doing wonders to silence his approach. With only the moon to brighten the area, they had evaded the watchful eyes of Kamoshida’s toughest knights.

Solo braced his hand against his mask, ready to summon Pechorin at a moment’s notice. “I’m ready when you all are.”

* * *

A loud crack and a flash of smoke shot out from the northern edge of the roof. Startled, the shadows reeled back from the noise. Their captain was the first to regain his wits.

“Something’s going on down there! You two, come with me and stay alert! As for you, stand guard until we return. Don’t let anyone into King Kamoshida’s quarters!”

Only one knight stood between them and the treasure now. Wolf emerged from an unlit portion of the roof and signaled to Burnout, who had snuck along the uneven bricks of the tower. She leaned over the unsuspecting shadow, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

Having tailed the shadows to the dissipating smoke, Solo turned to the others and gave a quick nod. Everyone was in position. Now all they needed to do was spring their trap.

Burnout landed onto the isolated shadow and tore its mask loose. Crossbow at the ready, Wolf took aim at the newly-formed Succubus. He squeezed the trigger, skewering the shadow and leaving it vulnerable for further attacks.

Wolf’s shot had gone unnoticed by the knight captain. Following up on the opportunity, Solo leapt from one shadow to the next, pulling masks free and dodging attempts to block him. He dove off the final shadow’s shoulders and, with a flourish, landed a perfect backflip on the way down.

“Show-off,” Burnout muttered as she and Wolf ran to assist him.

The shadows had reformed into a Berith, Silky, and Kelpie. Pulling back on its horse’s bridle, the Berith menacingly pointed its lance at the Phantom Thieves.

“In the name of King Kamoshida, you intruders are-”

Ice shards impaled the captain, rendering him as dazed as the Succubus. His companions avoided a burst of fire from Pechorin and responded in kind, hurling Bufu and Garu attacks at them.

Wolf was struck by a powerful blast of wind, throwing him off his feet. He saw the ground speeding below him and, in a desperate panic, latched onto the stonework near the edge of the roof. He didn’t dare look down as he pulled himself back up.

Burnout had driven the Silky into a corner with a well-placed Garu. She retrieved her rifle and began pumping the green-skinned maiden with bullets, wounding the creature badly enough that one more blow would do it in.

As she squeezed the trigger again, a resounding _ping_ left the rifle, and an empty ammo clip was spat out. Fumbling for her backup clips, she failed to notice the shadow regain its footing and unleash an ice attack, damaging her and freezing her legs in place. It raised its arms and prepared another Bufu, this time aiming to encase all of Burnout. She hurriedly struck the ice around her heels, making little progress as the air around her rapidly cooled.

Knife in hand, Solo jumped into the fray and slashed at the Silky, destroying it and cancelling its attack. Summoning his persona, he concentrated a small blast of fire around her legs, freeing her from the icy bonds that held her. Burnout silently thanked him and, reloading her rifle, landed a critical hit against the Kelpie.

“Let’s end this!” Wolf cried.

Forgoing any clever strategies, the Phantom Thieves began an all-out attack on the dazed and wounded shadows, destroying them in a matter of moments.

Wolf exhaled in relief. That had gotten a little too close for comfort. He had forgotten how tough these shadows could get, especially when they were guarding crucial areas. Kamoshida had probably rounded up his best men for that detail.

Fortunately, that meant they had destroyed those “best men.” Unless there was another surprise waiting for them in the tower, it would be smooth sailing to the treasure.

The ascent up the tower was an unexpectedly-quiet one. Wolf had braced himself for another fight, yet Kamoshida’s knights were nowhere to be found. Past the spiral staircase, there was certainly enough space for his guards to be quartered at. Though the Phantom Thieves maneuvered through the halls silently, muffling their footsteps on the thick carpeting, their efforts were ultimately unnecessary. Kamoshida’s quarters had been left unguarded on the inside.

They stopped at a heavy set of double doors secured by a padlock. Twirling a lockpick between her fingers, Burnout got to work opening it.

“Is he so short-sighted that he didn’t post a guard where he’s supposed to sleep?” Wolf asked.

“It’s that, or he’s so cocky that he didn’t think we would survive this long.” Solo shrugged and said, “I’m not complaining. He deserves to have his ego knocked down a peg.”

“His ego won’t be the only thing getting knocked down,” Burnout spat. She gave the pick one last twist, dropping the padlock and its chains to the ground. “Now, about that treasure…”

Pushing open the double doors, Wolf saw the path to their objective. Like a cathedral, the room ahead was long and towering. A lengthy red carpet ran from the doorway to a metal stand, where a glowing aura floated unassisted. Stained glass windows featuring Kamoshida’s likeness lined the walls. Above them was a rotunda painted with seraph-like figures of the coach surrounded by beautiful, unclothed women. His stomach curled when he recognized some of his classmates among the images.

The problem at hand didn’t involve Kamoshida’s insatiable lust, however. Within that aura wasn’t the treasure chest or disembodied heart he had expected. Instead, there was a void, an empty space that looked as if it should be filled, yet wasn’t.

“What’s going on? Where’s his treasure?”

“I told you already, it doesn’t show up right away,” Solo explained. “The ruler of the palace has to believe it is in danger of being stolen before it can appear.”

Kawakami scratched her head. “So, for Shadow Kamoshida’s treasure to manifest, we have to convince the real one that we’ve got it in our sights?”

“Exactly, but it isn’t that easy. If he comes to believe that the threat was empty, he’ll ignore any future warnings like that one. Basically, we’ll only have one shot at swiping it, so we’ll need to pull out all the stops.”

If they screwed up, then Kamoshida would remain a heartless predator, and he would get expelled along with Ren and Ryuji? He didn’t like those odds. They had been doing well in their infiltration so far, but that could change if security heavily increased. If Kamoshida took their bait, what else in his palace would be affected by it?

 _Courage, young one,_ Bernard reassured him. _Uncertainty does not guarantee defeat. As long as you remain confident in yourself, we will overcome any evildoers who dare challenge us. Your growth in these past days has been proof of that._

Silently thanking his persona for the moral support, Wolf watched as Solo began activating a Goho-M. He motioned for the others to get closer.

“Unless you two can think of anywhere else we need to go, I’d suggest we call it a day. We have a guaranteed route to the treasure now. Tomorrow, I’ll send you all of the details about calling cards. Get your thinking caps on, because our goal will be to get under Kamoshida’s skin.”

With a brief flash and a sudden jolt through his system, Wolf found himself and the others at the drawbridge of the castle. The Goho-M, having expended its energy, crumbled into dust in Solo’s palm.

The hard part of the heist had been completed. He looked forward to the culmination of their efforts; not just for him, but for everyone that the coach had harmed. Ren, Ryuji, Shiho, Ann – they would all be vindicated. He was ready to bring justice back to Shujin Academy.

He was ready to be a hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to work in the concept of the baton pass in this chapter, but I couldn't find a place for it. I'll figure out a spot for it at some point.
> 
> Mishima's umbrella weapon comes from the concept art that inspired his design in this story. I thought I might as well go all the way and incorporate that part of it.
> 
> Since things are going to diverge more after Kamoshida's palace, I've been laying out my plans for later chapters in greater detail. Of course, that won't be an issue for a few more updates, but it doesn't hurt to think ahead. I just hope I'll be able to stay true to the game's themes and spirit outside of its story's central path.


	13. What We Fight For

Two days before his intended expulsion, Ren’s will finally broke.

He had done everything in his power to save himself and his friends. Talking to the other administrators about the situation? A pointless effort. They had either taken Kamoshida’s side immediately or been too afraid of him to challenge his authority. Starting a petition to make Principal Kobayakawa reconsider? A laughable attempt at undoing his mistakes. Shujin’s students either retreated from him in fear or flat-out said that he deserved it. His best chance had been with Kawakami-san, who had undergone a change of heart and heard him out, but her promises of “setting things right” were cutting too close with nothing to show for them.

He could no longer pretend that he wasn’t in deep shit. His cool confidence had deserted him, leaving him in a constant state of anxiety and guilt. He didn’t know where to turn. If he didn’t stop the expulsion, what would happen to him? Would his parents take him back?

It disturbed him to no end that, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t convince himself that the answer to that question was “yes.”

Retreating under the awning of Café Leblanc, Ren shook out his umbrella and looked up at the cloudy sky. The forecast called for rain all night, and it had delivered in excess. Thick puddles were forming along the sidewalk, and the drains were beginning to fill from the overflow.

Not eager to stay out in the storm any longer, he moved inside the café, passing by a middle-aged man with a sash. Behind the counter, Sojiro retrieved his last customer’s dishes and started cleaning them off. He gave Ren a brief glance of acknowledgement and resumed his work.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. As much as he tried to appear indomitable on the outside, his dilemma was eating him up internally. He didn’t enjoy venting his problems – in fact, he preferred to be the shoulder for his friends to lean on – but he wasn’t sure that this was a problem he could solve on his own.

When he finally worked up the nerve to speak, his voice came out soft and hesitant. “Boss, can we talk for a sec?”

“Sure, kid. Grab a seat and I’ll get your dinner ready.”

Ren sat on the stool directly facing Sojiro. He set his bag on the one beside him, carefully looping its straps around it to prevent it from falling over.

“You doing alright? I get the feeling this isn’t good news.”

All of those years talking to customers must have taught him to read people’s faces. His poor job of hiding his fears were plainly visible, if Sojiro’s comment was any indication.

Ren struggled to find the right words. “I…I…screwed up. I screwed up _royally_ , and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“So, how did you ‘screw up royally?’ Is this a school problem or a social problem?”

“It’s a school problem. Remember that advice you gave me, the one about not picking battles with powerful people?” Ren laughed bitterly. “I didn’t take it, and I ended up doing just that. I tried to expose the crimes of this creep at Shujin, a coach named Kamoshida, and now he’s going to have me expelled. No, not just me, but two other guys who stuck up for me.”

He waited for Sojiro to explode, to cry “I told you so!” and rub in his failures like the beginning of the year. The outburst never came. Instead, Sojiro handed him a plate of curry and sat down at the other end of the bar. He didn’t look angry, more like concerned.

Maybe he was sympathetic to Ren’s plight. Maybe he knew this was coming, and the blow had already been softened by his low expectations for him. He hoped the first guess was the right one.

“I’m not going to lecture you about what you did, since you already said you shouldn’t have done it. Let’s look at the big picture. How long until they kick you out?”

“Two days,” he meekly admitted.

Sojiro’s eyebrows raised. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I didn’t know if you’d help! I thought I’d get yelled at or thrown out! I’ve been trying to fix this myself, but nothing’s working!”

“Hey, calm down! No one’s getting thrown out!”

Ren slumped against the counter, embarrassed at his moment of panic. Hoping to get his mind off of it, he began tearing into his dinner. He had missed lunch with Ryuji, Mishima, and Futaba to talk with Ushimaru-san. It was a last-ditch effort to get out of expulsion, and like the other attempts, it had gone nowhere.

“Let me be clear: you made another serious mistake, and you hurt more people than yourself this time.” Sojiro leaned back in his chair and sighed. “But I’ve heard all about this Kamoshida character. Futaba told me about what he’s been doing.”

Ren immediately shot up from his seat. “Futaba told you? He hasn’t gone after her, has he?”

“No, nothing’s happened to her. What I’m saying is that I believe you, and I’m not going to let you get expelled.”

“What can you do at this point? The administrators won’t listen to me, my classmates won’t help me, and no one else is willing to stick up for-”

“-Let me worry about that. I’ve got connections that could let you skirt around the expulsion. For now, all I want you to do is worry about your grades. Think you can do that?”

Sojiro playfully ruffled his hair, drawing out a laugh from Ren in spite of himself. It was an oddly-protective gesture for someone that seemed ready to toss him out, like a token of fatherly affection. Then again, Ren didn’t have much experience in that department, so it might not have been all that unusual.

“Trust me, kid, I know what I’m doing. Mark my words, all those threats will blow over two days from now.”

“Okay, okay, I trust you!” He returned to his seat and resumed eating. “Can’t say I’m too happy with you, though. It took me hours to get my hair that way.”

“What, hours to give yourself a bad case of bedhead?” Sojiro jokingly scoffed.

“I prefer ‘elegantly disheveled,’ if you don’t mind me saying.”

Chuckling, Sojiro tossed a set of keys near his plate. “Lock up for me when you’re done. And, remember, don’t sweat this Kamoshida thing. We got it under control.”

Sojiro’s conviction provided a much-needed boost for Ren’s morale. At least some of the adults he knew were good people. Even though the café owner hadn’t shown any proof that he could undo his expulsion, Ren trusted him. If he said he had things managed, then he would take him on his word and wait for the results.

Halfway to another bite of curry, Ren lowered his fork. Hadn’t he said “we” had it under control? Who were “they,” more faculty at Shujin or stockholders for the school?

Ren shrugged. He had probably just misheard him. Like Sojiro said, he shouldn’t be worrying about it.

* * *

The next day, Shujin Academy was seized by a controversy unlike any other. Students lined the hallways near the teacher’s lounge, their attentions captured by a mysterious note on the bulletin board. In thick, bold lettering, the red-and-black leaflet nailed to the board spilled the untold truths of the school for all to see. It was such a bold act of defiance against the administration that, if its creator’s identity was uncovered, they would be expelled on the spot.

Yuuki was already trying to evade one expulsion, so as satisfying as it would be to claim credit for it, he kept silent and watched the crowds around the calling card grow.

“You seein’ this?” one student exclaimed. “All this stuff about Kamoshida-san…”

“It can’t be real, can it?” another asked.

On the outer edge of the crowd, a fluffy-haired girl murmured, “Did they truly know this was happening? Why haven’t they done anything about it?”

Safe to say, Yuuki was confident that it would get under Kamoshida’s skin. All he needed to do was wait for him to notice it.

Ren, Ryuji, and Futaba had seen the calling card before he reached Shujin. Their urgent texts drew him to his handiwork, which had begun drawing in more and more students. A few teachers had taken notice and, rather than attempt to calm the commotion, retreated with expressions of barely-hidden shame.

To be fair, the whole thing was a team effort. Sojiro had gone over the concept of a calling card through texts, and had shown them his older ones during a meetup at Leblanc. Inspired by his examples, Kawakami had written up one meant for Kamoshida, channeling her indignation into a series of harsh accusations against the coach. Once she had passed off the final draft to Yuuki, he had created a design for the card using his laptop’s image editing software. He was hardly an artist, but as long as it got the job done, it didn’t have to look spectacular. If he took pride in any particular part of the card, it would have to be the logo: a silhouette of their respective masks leaning against each other, with his draped over the hinge of Kawakami’s gas mask.

“Man, Kamoshida’s gonna be effin’ pissed when he sees that!” Ryuji guffawed. “I wanna see the look on his face. He’s gonna lose it!”

“I thought no one was going to stand up to him,” Ren said, still as stupefied as when he had first noticed the card. “Where did this come from?”

Futaba mischievously grinned. “Who cares? It’s about time someone put that jerk in his place! Don’t you think so, Mishima?”

She had gotten his name right! When it came to accomplishments worth celebrating, that sounded pretty pathetic, but he’d take it.

“Uh, yeah. He’s had it coming.”

His underwhelming response didn’t go unnoticed. “Everything alright, dude? Thought you’d be psyched about this! You got plenty of reason to hate the guy.”

Oh, that he did. Yuuki was far from a hateful person, but he despised Kamoshida with all of his heart. Even if the coach had left him alone, he still would’ve have to watch his friends get put down by him. He wanted nothing more than to revel in the moment and gloat, but running his mouth had gotten him into enough trouble already. The last thing he needed to do was admit he had a hand in creating the calling card.

The excitement of the crowd rapidly wore off. Students began to break away from it en masse, fleeing some unseen threat on the approach. He could already guess what had scared them off.

From around the corner, Kamoshida caught his first glimpse of the calling card. Briefly taken aback, he muttered, “What the hell is this?” before taking a closer look. The few students huddled around the bulletin board moved aside at his insistence.

“Suguru Kamoshida, the merciless tyrant of lust. You have treated your students like servants and silenced anyone who opposed your cruelty. We have decided to make you confess your sins with your own tongue, thereby bringing your sick rule over Shujin Academy to an end. From, the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

Kamoshida crumpled the card in his hand, not bothering to read the accusations printed further down. Whirling around, he snarled, “ _Who the hell wrote this?_ Who wrote these lies?”

The last few students from the crowd scattered. His gaze locked on Yuuki’s group, Kamoshida stomped over to them. His expression was locked in a ferocious sneer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Futaba inch her way behind Ren.

“Did you put that shit up?” Kamoshida growled at him.

In the face of Kamoshida’s fury, Ren laughed. “Oh, yeah, I magic’d my way into the school last night to set that up. I just _had_ to tell everyone something they already knew.”

The coach looked ready to strike him. “Goddamn smartass, acting like you’ll make a difference…” He glared at Yuuki. “This shit wasn’t something Sakamoto could pull off. Was it you, Mishima?”

The old Yuuki would have cowered at the full force of his anger. He would’ve fed him some excuse about getting into games or manga the night before. As long as it got him out of the spotlight, he would have done it.

He wasn’t that same person any more.

“And what if I did?” Yuuki spat.

A barely-suppressed “dude!” slipped from Ryuji’s lips. Both Futaba and Ren were stunned into silence at his remark. Even Kamoshida was caught off-guard, if only until his anger resurfaced again.

“Useless pieces of shit, that’s what all of you are!” Kamoshida cried. “That stunt isn’t going to make a difference! You’re still getting expelled tomorrow, and I’ll make damn sure your folks hear all about it!”

A flash of light struck Yuuki. Squinting, he saw the hallway bathed in darkness and Shadow Kamoshida leering at him.

“You really think you can steal my treasure?” it growled in its distorted voice. “Come and take it from me.”

The vision disappeared in another flash. Yuuki blinked hard, shaking out the blurriness in his eyes. He caught a glimpse of Kamoshida’s regular self storming off, cursing up a storm as he stomped back into the teacher’s lounge.

While he recovered from the stupor, his friends continued to gawk at what he had done. Peering over at him in his dazed state, Futaba waved her hand in front of Yuuki’s eyes. “Anyone home in there?”

“Huh? Oh, my bad. I guess I didn’t get enough sleep.”

“Mind telling me where _that_ came from?” Ren was positively beaming at him. “I remember you being scared to death of that guy. Since when did you work up the nerve to tell him off?”

“I…a lot’s happened to me lately. I’ve been rethinking the way I act around people, trying to be more confident, all that sort of stuff.”

Ryuji vigorously patted him on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Whatever you’re doing, it’s paying off! You’re the first dude I know to piss off Kamoshida and get away with it!”

He had pissed Kamoshida off, hadn’t he? For all that bluster about getting them expelled, the coach hadn’t tried any of his usual punishments on them. Some part of him, no matter how small, had to be scared of the calling card’s threat. That nagging doubt would eat away at him until, in the cognitive world, his distorted desires would be exposed for all to see.

This was their one chance to take that coach down for the count. He just hoped they had what it would take to pull it off.

* * *

Hours later, the three Phantom Thieves emerged from the safe house closest to the treasure. The castle was at full alert, and patrols were sweeping the lower levels with intense urgency. Solo could hear their weary gasps echo through the stonework, carried by the high ceilings of the palace. Fortunately, their target was within walking distance, and as far as he could tell, no guards had been posted in the tower.

This was it. There would be no more shadows to ambush or locked doors to pick. Once they removed the treasure from its resting place, the castle would begin to crumble. The sooner this disgusting place was reduced to rubble, the better. He had seen some monstrous things in his time as a thief, but this palace sickened him the most.

Burnout threw open the doors to the cathedral. As they had hoped, the glowing aura was now occupied by Kamoshida’s most precious treasure: a massive crown of red and gold, each side encrusted with sparkling gems. It was extravagant, decadent, and – most importantly – unprotected.

Solo cracked his knuckles. “All right, ramblers, _let’s get rambling_.”

Hauling the treasure out of the castle would be a tricky task, but a doable one. It was too cumbersome for one person to carry alone, even with the strength they possessed in the cognitive world. Maybe they could roll it down the stairs until they reached the ground floor? Alternatively, two could carry it while one protected them from shadows.

Regardless of what method they used, they had the treasure in the bag. Nothing could stand in their way now.

Wolf walked around the crown, studying it cautiously. “Doesn’t look like it’s booby-trapped or anything. I’m gonna bring it down, everyone stand back-”

A volleyball smacked against the crown, releasing it from the magical bonds that held it aloft. Wolf barely had time to stumble back and avoid it as it crashed down. Landing on an angle, it suddenly shrunk in size and rolled down to the cathedral’s entrance, where a familiar speedo-clad figure stood. The palace’s ruler had decided to pay them a personal visit.

“I’ll have to deal with you three myself,” Shadow Kamoshida said, propping the crown under his arm. His cocky grin and arrogant walk stood out in spite of the failures of his men. Here they were, intruders in the highest reaches of his fortress, and he thought he had the upper hand.

“You’re a little late to the punch,” Burnout retorted. “Where were you when we were tearing through your best men?”

“Hoping that they could carry out the duties I recruited them for! It’s like they say: if you want to do a job right, you got to do it yourself.”

Wolf leveled his crossbow at him. “Maybe you can push us around in the real world, but that isn’t the case here! In the cognitive world, you’re nothing but a washed-up pervert trying to relive his glory days!”

His eyes flaring a bright yellow, Shadow Kamoshida snarled at his insult. “Shut your mouth, you mediocre volleyball player! My glory days never ended! In Shujin Academy, people respect me! Women line up in droves to be around me! Guys work their asses off to come close to my brilliance!”

“Respect _you?_ ” Solo cried in disbelief. “You force yourself on innocent girls and beat teenage boys until they can’t second-guess you! The only reason you’re _tolerated_ is because of the publicity you bring the school!”

“Maybe it would seem that way to a parasite like you! I brought order to an unruly school full of bottom-feeders! Before I arrived, Shujin was _nothing!_ All it had going for it was a high price tag! I singlehandedly turned it around, and you have the audacity to question the way I did it?”

Stomping her foot against the tiles, Burnout shouted, “You didn’t help Shujin in the slightest! All you did was push around people who didn’t see eye-to-eye with you! My friends lost their jobs, and my students keep coming to school afraid…and it’s all because of you! We were better off before you showed up, you goddamn _demon!_ ”

Dark energy surged around Shadow Kamoshida’s feet, enveloping the tyrant in an ominous shroud. His mouth twisted into a cruel, wicked visage of a smile as he donned the crown. Every step he took towards them seemed to shake the palace itself.

“You’re right about one thing: I did get my hands dirty to reach where I am today. I’ll just have to do it again with you three! I could care less about peasant filth like you and your friends, because I’m above you!”

His body impossible contorted and expanded into an inhuman shape, growing until he towered over them by several body lengths. Several additional arms sprouted from his sides, their fingers twitching and grasping at the air around them. His head expanded to caricature-like sizes, with bulbous eyes, sharp teeth, and an elongated tongue that jutted from his lips. A whip suddenly appeared one of his hands, along with a chalice that contained several scantily-clad female cognitions. All the while, his laugh deepened and grew louder, echoing through the cathedral with its unholy sound.

Solo felt himself back away at the monstrosity before them. For the first time since his confrontation with Shadow Futaba, he felt genuine fear.

“ _I am a demon who rules this world!_ ” Shadow Kamoshida shrieked.

Judging by the awestruck expressions on their faces, his partners were as terrified about this development as he was.

“W-what do we do?” Wolf cried. “You never said this could happen!”

“I didn’t think it would! All the times I’ve pulled off heists, the palace rulers never changed like this!”

Their only escape was blocked by Shadow Kamoshida’s new form. Even if they found a way around him, the treasure was under his watch now. Escaping would mean abandoning the crown, and with it, their one shot at stealing his heart.

 _We need to get that crown out of his hands, either by force or by trickery,_ Pechorin said.

“I don’t know if we can overpower something that massive…”

_Even a king can bleed, old friend. He thinks of himself as an immortal ruler. Break that façade and he’ll fold like any other shadow._

Solo focused his sight on Shadow Kamoshida, taking his persona’s advice to heart. Sure, the coach had become intimidating in both size and power, but he was still a shadow. Hadn’t Burnout said she injured him during her awakening? If she could do it – at the beginning of her growth, no less – then they could do it again.

“Get ready for a fight,” he told the others. “We’re taking that crown from him one way or the other.”

Burnout and Wolf nodded, apparently reassured by his determination. Their personas appeared behind them, poised to begin their attack.

“You good-for-nothing shitty brats!” Shadow Kamoshida jeered. “Don’t you know when to respect your betters? Lay down and take your punishment!”

Solo removed his mask, bringing forth Pechorin from the depths of his soul. “The only thing we’re taking is your throne! Your castle is going to come crashing down today!”

Shadow Kamoshida let loose a deafening roar and struck the ground. His bulbous eyes narrowed at them, as if he was preparing to swat a fly with a newspaper. “All right, you little shits! Class is in session!”

His whip clattered against the ground, lashing out at the Thieves and narrowly missing each strike. Calling for Agi with every near-miss, Solo concentrated steady bursts of fire on the shadow.

Leaping onto the rafters, Burnout crouched down and methodically began pumping rifle rounds into Shadow Kamoshida, shoving in a new clip when the previous one would eject. Wolf was on the ground maneuvering around his attacks. When an opening was created, he would target the shadow’s limbs with Bufu, freezing them and forcing it to pass the whip off to another hand.

The accumulated damage took an eventual toll on Shadow Kamoshida. Grunting in frustration, he backed away from the Phantom Thieves and took a swig from the chalice. One of the cognitive students plopped down into his gaping mouth. It disappeared down his throat, and with it, his injuries vanished as well.

Burnout leapt down next to Solo. “What the…he’s healing himself with that thing?”

“We’ll never get far as long as that cup’s around. New plan: I’ll distract him while you and Wolf destroy it.”

Burnout and Wolf split up, running to opposite sides of Shadow Kamoshida. Solo ran head-on towards their enemy, stopping short of his reach.

“It’s a good thing you quit when you did!” Solo mockingly shouted to him. “You’ve gotten soft, Kamoshida! You could never pull off any of your old moves! You’re just a has-been who wants his fifteen minutes of fame back!”

Gasping in disbelief, Shadow Kamoshida screamed, “You unbelievable bastard! You think I don’t have what it takes? I’ll make you eat your words!”

A troupe of cognitive male students appeared, carrying with them an oversized volleyball. He swiped it from them and, abandoning the chalice, hurled it in the air. Solo immediately began retreating, trying to put as much distance between him and the projectile as he could.

“I call this my ‘gold medal spike!’ See you in hell, peasant!”

The smacking of the gigantic volleyball filled the halls like a single drum beat. Rocketing across the cathedral at lethal speeds, it headed straight for Solo. He hurled himself out of the way, feeling it clip his arm and knock him roughly against the wall. He had dodged a deadly blow, but he hadn’t gotten away with it unscathed.

“Hah, what did I tell you? Time to finish the job! Slaves, bring me another one!”

While Shadow Kamoshida’s back was turned, the other Thieves struck. Tess sliced into the chalice’s base with her Garu attacks. At the same time, Bernard attacked it with his sword, weakening it further. Cracks formed along the cup. It bent and shriveled from the repeated abuse.

Their plan hadn’t gone unnoticed by Shadow Kamoshida. “No, get away from that! I got that from my college days! You have no right to touch it!”

“If you’re really as good as you say, you can replace it!”

Throwing her hands behind her, Burnout channeled her energy into another wind attack. Tess lashed out at the chalice’s center, severing it in two and spilling out its contents.

Solo swallowed down a handful of Recover-R, healing himself enough to get back in the fight. Regrouping with Burnout and Wolf, they resumed their original strategy to wear the coach down with constant, steady attacks.

When they had wounded him enough, Shadow Kamoshida let loose another roar. “You repugnant pieces of shit! I’m the king around here! I deserve your respect and your servitude!”

“Tell that to Shiho, Ren, Ryuji, and everyone else you’ve trampled on!” Wolf said. “You’re no king! You’re just a pathetic bully who’s long overdue for a beatdown!”

He rolled out of the way of a smaller volleyball. Shadow Kamoshida was hurling normal-sized ones at them in a frenzy, denting the walls and floor but leaving them relatively untouched. Some didn’t require any effort on their part to avoid.

_He’s getting sloppy, old friend. Now is the time to exploit his mistakes._

“You’re right. Everyone, on me! One of us needs to get that crown off his head. I’ll go for it if no one else wants to chance it.”

Wolf raised his hand to volunteer. “Let me do it! I can stay out of sight, and I’m fast enough to steal it before he can react!”

“Okay then, we’ll cover you. Be careful.”

He snuck off to the pillars near Shadow Kamoshida. Looping his arms and legs around one, he inched his way upward. Just outside of the shadow’s field of vision, Wolf leapt to a pillar closer to him, and then another.

Solo switched to his handgun, firing off bullets into Shadow Kamoshida’s torso to save his stamina. Burnout’s attacks were far more direct and aggressive, smacking the coach around with rapid Garus and physical attacks.

The two weaved around a barrage of volleyballs. Seeing the shadow’s whip overhead, Solo jumped back and avoided its lash. Impossibly, Shadow Kamoshida’s tongue acted the same way, striking down on Burnout as if it were a riding crop. Revolted, she wiped off the saliva clinging to her outfit.

“I’m going to need a bath after this,” she moaned.

The close contact with Shadow Kamoshida did not hamper her offensive; in fact, her efforts doubled after the lick, fueled by her persona’s undying rage. Solo kept up the pace, weakening the shadow however possible and drawing his attention away from Wolf. For all of his bluster about being regal and above them, Shadow Kamoshida hadn’t caught onto their plan.

Too many critical hits and precise attacks had worn out the palace ruler. His heavy pants could be heard from all around the cathedral, signaling the tide of the battle turning against him. When his latest assault came to an end, he grunted in confusion. “Hold up, this isn’t right...there were three of you! Where did that other brat go?”

“Right behind you!”

Wolf swung onto the crown, kicking it hard enough to topple it from Shadow Kamoshida’s head. It clattered with every bounce, rolling off into a corner of the cathedral.

“All right, Wolf!” Solo cheered. “That was perfect!”

Patting his head, and noticing that it was lacking his regal status symbol, Shadow Kamoshida clamored for his fallen treasure. He hurriedly crawled for it, ignoring the Phantom Thieves in his desperation.

Shards of ice rose around Shadow Kamoshida’s neck and arms, trapping him in place. Wolf waved for the others, crying, “He’s on his last legs! Let’s finish him off!”

Never had an all-out attack felt so satisfying for Solo. Every blow he dealt, every slash of his knife or burn from his persona, felt like righteous justice. Even his older jobs had lacked the cathartic value this was giving him. He never realized how much he missed it, the feeling of taking some heinous criminal down for the count.

With a combined attack from their personas, Shadow Kamoshida let loose one final cry and dissolved, leaving only his human-looking form behind. Whimpering nervously with every step, he made another dash for the now-shrunken crown, only for Burnout and Wolf to step in his way. Their weapons were drawn and loaded.

“Going somewhere?” Burnout sneered. “You’re not taking that crown. Put your hands up and walk to the balcony.”

Shadow Kamoshida hesitated. She swung the butt of her rifle into his stomach and yelled, “Do it now!”

Hands held over his head, he backed closer to the balcony. His arrogance had deserted him. If Solo hadn’t known better, he might have mistaken this sad sack for someone else, not the cruel coach that had abused his students.

“It’s not fair!” Shadow Kamoshida whined. “I worked my ass off to make my country proud! The press ate me up for a few months, then spat me out like I was nothing! All these people keep second-guessing me, but who are they to judge me? I’ve inspired countless kids to get into volleyball! I brought a gold medal home, dammit! Why does everything think they can push me around? Why can’t I enjoy my rewards without being cross-examined?”

“Shut up!” Wolf said back. His voice was raised, and for the first time, Solo heard genuine anger in his words. “You didn’t inspire anyone! You think you’re above everyone because you won some competition? All you’ve done is feel sorry for yourself and exploit your success!”

They were a few false steps away from giving into their anger and destroying Shadow Kamoshida completely. Solo stood back, debating whether to intervene.

_I have no sympathy for this monster. If they decide to finish him off, I won’t encourage you to stop them._

“You and me both. That said, I hope they won’t need me to step in.”

The two forced Shadow Kamoshida back against the railing of the balcony. The ground below stood waiting, eager to swallow up another victim.

Burnout menaced him with his bayonet. “Remember what happened to Shiho? Now you get to experience her nightmare. She had a choice between living in hell or jumping – which are you going to do?”

At the threats, the defeat the Phantom Thieves had handed him, Shadow Kamoshida’s pride finally crumbled. He threw himself to his knees, bowing in front of their feet.

“Please, have mercy on me!” he sobbed. “I’ll make up for this! I’ll tell the truth to the whole school! I’ll quit my job, move far away, make reparations for everyone I’ve messed with – just please spare me!”

The tension was thick. Solo watched the scene with bated breath. He knew that the slightest move could set things off. Burnout and Wolf’s offensive stances, Shadow Kamoshida’s prostrate begging, it was all building to a fever pitch. He found himself waiting for the inevitable gunshot.

Slowly, as if happening underwater, the two set their weapons aside.

“There’ll be no justice if you go out like this,” Wolf sighed. “You’re going to live, but if you don’t do as you promised, we’ll be back. Understand?”

The coach nodded vigorously, kissing the ground in front of them as an act of submission. Seeing him brought so low warmed Solo’s heart, but watching his partners spare him brought him much more relief. Even when they had their abuser at their mercy, they had chosen to let him live and not give into their anger.

_Restraint is a valuable asset among thieves. They will prove to be fine partners in crime when you return to this world._

“Hold on, let’s not get ahead of ourselves! I never said anything about-”

The castle shook violently, dropping pieces of stonework all over the cathedral. With the treasure loose and the ruler accepting the change of heart, there was nothing keeping the palace in place. It was falling apart along with Kamoshida’s distorted desires.

“The crown!” Burnout pointed to the treasure. “Let’s take it and get the hell out of here!”

Pushed by pure adrenaline and fear, Solo joined the others in a mad dash through the castle. Descending down collapsing staircases, the three sprinted for dear life as everything around them gave way. Burnout clutched the crown to her chest, holding it like an American football player would during a run. Wolf held up his phone, frantically pulling up the Nav while keeping pace with the others. Solo’s vision blurred in the last moments of the escape, and he barely realized they had gotten out until the world warped around them.

Panting and sweating, the three leaned back in the alleys near Shujin Academy. The silence was broken by the app, whose words sounded like music to the exhausted group.

“The destination has been deleted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out later than I hoped it would, but I think it exceeded my expectations! I had originally intended to split the chapter into two parts: the first going until the discovery of the treasure, and the second following Shadow Kamoshida's arrival. Ultimately, I found that it worked better as a single piece. 
> 
> Above all else, I really hope I did the Kamoshida battle justice. That was one of the most memorable parts of Persona 5 for me. I can't think of a single complaint I had about that arc.
> 
> I have concrete plans for the next several chapters along with rough outlines of the second through fourth palaces. Though I'm busier now than I was when I started this story, I should be able to continue updating this. Here's hoping I can stick to a loose schedule and update this story on a regular basis!
> 
> Up next: the aftermath of Kamoshida's change of heart!


	14. Believer

Kamoshida didn’t return to work after the castle collapsed.

Gym classes and volleyball practices were put on hold due to his mysterious absence. An important faculty meeting went on without his input. Rumors spread around Shujin Academy about the coach’s disappearance. Just what had caused him to vanish like that? Blackmail, threats, a bad bout of the flu? Whatever the reason, he was missed by few students of faculty at the school, least of all by Yuuki.

He knew the true reason for Kamoshida’s disappearance – guilt and self-reflection caused by his change of heart. At least, that’s what he was assuming it was. Sojiro had gone over the usual effects of a stolen heart shortly after they had escaped Kamoshida’s palace. In most circumstances, the target withdrew from the public eye until it openly confessed its crimes, the weight of its guilt having become too much to bear.

As far as he knew, no one had seen Kamoshida since they had stolen his heart. Kawakami confirmed that none of the teachers had heard from him, either. Considering how much the coach had done, Yuuki figured that the guilt he faced must be crushing.

Hearing the final class bells ring, he shut his trigonometry textbook and breathed a sigh of relief. At last, the school day had come to an end! He had plans for the afternoon and, for once, they didn’t involve Phantom Thief work! Ryuji had invited Yuuki and the others to a ramen place downtown. His ravings about the taste had been infectious, and Yuuki ultimately couldn’t turn down the offer.

Walking down Shujin’s halls felt much less harrowing now. He imagined that, without Kamoshida lurking around, other students had to be breathing easier as well. At least, the place was feeling less like a prison and more like a school.

His phone buzzed with its melodic text notifications. Two messages were addressed to him, both from Ryuji.

 **Ryuji:** yo, we just made it

 **Ryuji:** we’ll wait outside till you show up

Yuuki had gotten a decent idea of the restaurant’s location from him. Taking the train to Ogikubo, he cautiously navigated its main streets in search of it. After a few minutes of walking, he saw a familiar set of orange, yellow and black hair colors standing out among the pedestrian traffic. Waving to his friends, he ran over to the bench they had been camping out on.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t hold you all up!”

“What’re you apologizing for?” Ryuji asked. “There’s no rush.”

“It’s not like we have anything else to worry about,” Ren added.

Yuuki guessed that he was talking about more than just the time. Regardless, he didn’t plan on saying anything about it. Bringing up the expulsion threat, whether or not it was still in the air, would badly dampen the mood. They had earned a break from that nightmare, as far as he was concerned.

Futaba began tugging on Ren’s sleeve. “C’mon, c’mon! We’re never gonna find enough seats if we keep waiting out here!”

Chuckling at her enthusiasm, Ren quickly caved to her demands and led the others inside. Before too long, they had taken spots along the bar, each one lined up beside the other. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as crowded as he had expected it to be. Some of the tables and booths were occupied, but at least half of the seats went unclaimed. There were empty stools on both sides of their little group.

Since he was a newcomer to the shop, Yuuki let Ryuji order for him. Apparently, Ren had been there before – probably with Ryuji, considering how close they had gotten – so he ordered for himself and Futaba. Yuuki didn’t know for certain what he was getting, but he didn’t feel like questioning it. Besides, when had Ryuji ever steered him wrong?

Well, there was that one time they had tried to pick up those girls from Inaba…

“Okay, I’ll be real with you guys for a sec,” Ryuji suddenly said, cutting off his trip down memory lane. “This ain’t just about the food. I’ve been meaning to talk about something with you all.”

“What’s going on?” Ren asked.

“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking…”

“That’s a shock!” Futaba cut in. “It must hurt a lot, huh?”

“Hey, I’m being serious!” Ryuji defensively cried. “You guys must’ve seen how weird things are getting around school, right? Kamoshida just up and vanished, but no one’s asking why!”

Ren rested a chopstick against his lip, mulling over Ryuji’s question. “Yeah, you’re right. Ever since that card got posted, he’s been steering clear of Shujin.”

“Good for him,” Futaba growled between sips of her drink. “I’d be happy if he never came back.”

It felt strange being the only one in the know for once. As much as Yuuki wanted to tell his friends the truth, he kept his mouth shut. Besides, if Sojiro was right, they would figure it out for themselves before too long.

“What are you getting at?” Yuuki questioned him.

“I dunno, I’m just thinking…what if that calling card got under his skin? What if someone’s got serious dirt on Kamoshida, and the reason he’s been ducking classes is that he knows it? Maybe all that crap about making him confess wasn’t just for show, y’know?”

The ramen shop’s door swung open, its bells clattering to signal the arrival of a new customer. Standing at the entrance was none other than Ann Takamaki herself. Locking eyes with Ryuji, she grabbed the empty seat beside him and dropped her handbag on the counter.

What was _she_ doing here? Ann was notoriously-regarded by many students as one of the hottest girls in their class, Yuuki among them. She was so pretty that she modeled for fashion magazines in her spare time! Why was a girl like her visiting a group of supposed delinquents like them?

“Huh, you made it,” Ryuji commented. “Not gonna lie, I kinda thought you’d blow me off.”

“For something this serious? I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ann made an order and slid her menu aside. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to catch up with you. We both said some stupid things in the past. There’s no need to keep holding them against each other.”

“Yeah, me too. Oh, figure I should introduce the other guys.” He extended his arm towards Yuuki. “This is Mishima, that’s Ren, and this here is Futaba. You guys know Ann, don’t you?”

Ren peered over Ryuji’s shoulder to see her. “You’re Shiho’s friend, aren’t you? I’m sorry about what happened to her. She was one of the few people at Shujin who treated me like a normal person.”

Ann’s eyes lowered. “Yeah, well…she’s starting to do better now. That’s all that matters.”

An uncomfortable silence hung over the group. Yuuki had seen Shiho jump, and for the greater part of a week, he had been blaming himself for it. He had been the one to tell her to see Kamoshida, and whatever he had done to her had driven her over the edge of despair.

However, he wasn’t so sure he was at fault these days. That fortune teller’s prediction still lingered in his thoughts. Had she been talking about Shiho? If so, were her words accurate, and had she forgiven him for any part he might have played in her suicide attempt? He ordinarily would have dismissed it as nonsense, but everything with the Metaverse had taught him not to ignore something for being “impossible.”

“So…” Futaba finally broke the ice, “You’re a model, aren’t you, Ann? How do you stay so thin? What’s your secret – Pilates, an all-liquid diet, a huge stash of pot?”

Cola nearly spilled from Ryuji’s nose, leaving him in a near-catatonic coughing fit. Both Ren and Yuuki were frozen somewhere between shock and hysterical laughter. If there was a time and a place to ask that kind of question, it definitely wasn’t then.

However, in spite of his expectations, Ann covered her mouth and began giggling. “I don’t have a secret! I really just eat whatever I want. It all seems to work out for me.”

Ren let out a deep sigh of relief. With the tension lifted, the guys became comfortable enough to join in the laughter.

They spent the afternoon in that little shop, talking about their lives before Shujin and what they wanted to make of themselves. Each one relayed their own horror story of encountering Kamoshida – and, for some of them, they happened more than once. Even Ann hadn’t been safe from him, as he had been pressuring her into getting involved with him for weeks. Fortunately, it all came to an end the night after the calling card had been posted. Like the others, she had finally been freed from his harassment.

Yuuki was surprised at how much he enjoyed talking with Ann. He had expected her to be too cool to associate with someone like him, but she was relatable, down-to-earth, and genuinely friendly towards them all. Even Futaba seemed to enjoy talking to her about the ins and outs of her modeling career.

By the time the last bowl had been finished and the five parted ways, Yuuki felt strangely confident about the days ahead. There was plenty of uncertainty with the way Shujin was changing, but he wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. He, Sojiro, and Kawakami had done everything by the book. Kamoshida needed to have his heart changed, and judging by what the others had told him, he hadn’t been the only one who wanted him to pay for his crimes.

All he had to do was wait and see what would happen next.

* * *

A few days later, Principal Kobayakawa called for an assembly in the Shujin Academy auditorium. Apparently, it was being held to address rumors spreading about the school’s faculty, which one could easily discern meant Kamoshida’s disappearance. That issue couldn’t be swept under the rug no matter how badly Kobayakawa wanted it gone.

Yuuki shuffled into the auditorium with other students from his class, most of whom were tired and cranky about having to stand for some speech. From the front of the stage, he saw Kawakami give him a quick nod before returning her attention to the other students. Though she appeared calm and collected, she clutched her notebook tightly. He guessed that the teachers were as aware of how tense the topic was as the students were.

When Kobayakawa finally appeared on the stage, the auditorium was packed to the brim with students and teachers. Discontent swirled among those present, and it took several commands of “settle down” from the principal to bring the murmuring to a stop.

“It has come to my attention,” Kobayakawa began, “that misinformation has been spreading about a member of Shujin Academy’s faculty. Specifically, I have heard many rumors about the status of our volleyball coach, Suguru Kamoshida. I want to dispel any false notions that had risen about him. He is in perfect health, and he has not resigned from his position. He has merely taken some time off, and once he returns, I promise that…”

His explanation dried up on his tongue. To the astonishment of the crowd, Kamoshida marched into the auditorium, his head held low and his posture slouched. Yuuki felt his heart quiver at the coach’s sudden return. Instinctively, the bruises he had given him tingled along his arms and sides. This was the moment of truth. He crossed his fingers and prayed that Sojiro was right.

“K-Kamoshida!” the principal cried. “I didn’t expect for you to arrive today! I thought you would be taking off until next week!”

Kamoshida didn’t answer him. Pulling himself onto the stage, he faced the student body and fell to his knees, bowing to them in a gesture of shame.

“I…I am so sorry,” he moaned. His voice was low and devoid of his usual superior attitude. “What I have done to you all is beyond forgiveness…even so, you all deserve to know the truth. I have spent my time at Shujin Academy abusing my position. I have hurt and preyed on students. I have driven teachers out of jobs for trying to stop me. I’ve done so many horrible things…and I never once questioned whether I was in the wrong!”

Outrage spread among the students, many of whom likely had to weather Kamoshida’s cruelty and keep their mouths shut. Indignant cries for him to resign rang out. Kobayakawa clamored for him to stop speaking, but the coach continued.

“What I did to you all was inhuman. I considered taking my life in the past week, but I know now that would only be an escape from my punishment. I need to face justice!” He threw his head lower and began sobbing. “Please, someone call the police! Let me be punished for my sins!”

There was no controlling the crowd now. Phones were flying out of pockets and purses. Calls were made – not just to the police, but to parents, friends, and even news stations. The long-restrained anger toward Kamoshida had reached a boiling point, and now it would consume his reputation for the rest of his life.

Yuuki beamed at Kawakami, who returned his smile. Pulling out his phone, he opened Sojiro’s number and typed up a message.

 **Mishima:** It’s done. Kamoshida came to school and begged everyone to turn him in.

 **Sojiro:** Good, let him spend his life behind bars.

 **Sojiro:** Grab Kawakami on the way out of school. Meet me at Leblanc. This calls for a celebration.

 **Mishima:** You got it.

The commotion at the auditorium hadn’t died down, far from it. Kamoshida was still crying, Kobayakawa was still frantically trying to save an already-sunken ship, and the pandemonium among the students was reaching a fever pitch.

He had done this. Meek little Yuuki Mishima had brought down an “untouchable” coach lording over an entire school. But he couldn’t have done it without help, and Sojiro and Kawakami were the best partners he could have asked for. No, not just partners, friends. They had each other as contacts and texted each other often. Even outside of the cognitive world business, they were thick as thieves. He looked forward to the chance to celebrate their hard-won victory together.

* * *

Café Leblanc closed up early that night, purportedly for a “private event” that it had been rented out for. In actuality, Sojiro had wanted it empty for Mishima and Kawakami’s arrival. It wouldn’t be a grandiose party or expensive buffet, but it was the most he could do on such short notice. And, hey, who didn’t like free coffee?

The reports of Kamoshida’s arrest came in a couple hours after Mishima’s text. Shujin closed later that morning, no doubt due to the shake-up caused by his confession. He couldn’t imagine the news going over well with students, parents, or…just about anyone, really. That sort of abuse couldn’t be covered up now that it had been exposed by the man perpetrating it.

Mishima and Kawakami were in high spirits when they walked through Leblanc’s door. Both were smiling and enthusiastic about the news, even more than he was. It made sense: they had a front-row seat to Kamoshida’s cruelty. As personal of a fight as it was for Sojiro, they had even more of a score to settle with the coach.

“Ah, you made it. Any more news from Shujin?”

Kawakami shook her head. “Kobayakawa had to lock himself in his office to escape all of the reporters. I don’t think this scandal is going anyway anytime soon.”

“Good riddance. He was the one who kept covering for Kamoshida. Now he’ll be lumped together with him in the headlines tonight.”

As per tradition, Sojiro passed around piping-hot mugs of coffee to the two. This time, though, he had a little something extra prepared. Laid out along the counter were biscotti, hard stick-like biscuits that were meant to be dunked in hot drinks. They were usually sold to Leblanc’s customers, but he had broken out his stash after hearing the good news. Besides, this wasn’t the first time he had given a freebie to them.

Mishima picked out a lemon-flavored biscotti stick. “I’m still wrapping my head around this,” he muttered. Dipping his in the coffee, he took a large bite and moaned loudly. “ _Mmm_ , so good…”

“I know what you mean. I didn’t have many doubts, but I just can’t believe that…” Kawakami looked around the empty café. “That, well, we pulled it off. Kamoshida is probably going to prison because of _us_.”

“It’s all because of you two,” Sojiro declared. “You were the ones who roped me into making this team. Without you, I might have rotted in Kamoshida’s palace!”

“Don’t act like you weren’t a huge help!” she insisted. “Without all your knowledge and experience with the cognitive world, it might have taken months to reach his treasure!”

“Let’s just agree that we were all awesome,” Mishima commented, swallowing down a mouthful of food. “We’ll be ready for whatever’s waiting for us next time!”

“Next time? Who said anything about…”

Sojiro stopped himself short of his usual excuse. He didn’t really plan to stop after Kamoshida, did he? Pulling off that heist reignited his old zeal for phantom thievery. There were still plenty of injustices to address, and he couldn’t afford to keep looking the other way when they came to light. He had an obligation to keep up the fight. Fortunately, he had two of the craftiest, most resourceful teammates he could’ve asked for by his side.

“…You know, forget what I was saying. You’re right, nothing’s going to stand in our way on our next job.”

Mishima did a fist-pump, whispering, “Yes!” as he took another sip of coffee. Kawakami said nothing, but shot him an approving glance. The corners of her ecstatic grin were visible over the edge of her mug.

They were a strange bunch, no doubt, but they made a great band of Phantom Thieves and an even better circle of friends.

Mishima raised his mug high in the air. “A toast to our triumph over evil!” he cried.

In spite of himself, Sojiro found himself caught up in Mishima’s glee. Joining Kawakami, he took a newly-filled mug and raised it alongside the others. Clinking them together, the three drank in celebration.

Sojiro wasn’t sure what the future held in store, but he didn’t care. For the time being, all was right in his world, and that was good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate being the bearer of bad news, but I most likely won't be continuing the story past this point. I'm much busier now than I was when I started this fanfic, and I don't have the time to commit to writing it that I used to. I'm not happy about stopping it, but I won't be able to meaningfully update it the way I used to. At best, it'd be 2-3 months between chapters, and I would probably lose interest in writing it before I could finish it. 
> 
> I thought that I should at least finish what I had written for chapter 14 and close out the Kamoshida arc, thereby ending it on a high note. Regardless, I'm sorry to close it out so early in the game, especially with Mementos and Phantom Thief Chihaya right on the horizon. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, gave kudos to, subscribe to, and bookmarked The Phantom Confidants! Your support meant so much to me. I hope you enjoyed this ride, even if it came to an end sooner than I had hoped.


End file.
